The Definition of Love
by Rainia NyteWolf
Summary: When Anne confronts Henry about Katherine making his shirts, he goes to confront the queen about it. When he approaches her, he realizes that he is still in love with his wife. When he tells her he will give her a second chance, she refuses and tells him that she is unwilling to give him another chance. Henry becomes determined to win Katherine back, regardless of the consequences.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes – I know, I really should work on Back to the Beginning, but I couldn't help it. Found this plot bunny bunny on The Tudors Fanfic Forum and couldn't help myself.

Summary – Plot Bunny #23 - You know that scene where Anne gets into argument with Henry about Katharine making his shirts for him. What if Henry realizes that he is not ready to let go of his wife, that he still loves her? So later on that night he goes to Katharine and tells her he'll give her one more chance. In a twist Katharine tells him to 'hit the road" so speak. Who has grown tired of how Henry has treated her, with him yelling in face her after the trial basically did it. Shocked, Henry becomes obsessed with winning Katharine back. How will Anne and her family react? Especially later on when they find out she is pregnant?

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Anne snatched the shirt from the hapless page boy, her temper growing by the moment. Katherine still made Henry's shirts! Why was he still allowing this when he was attempting to marry her? Clutching the shirt furiously, she stalked towards Henry's rooms with a scowl marring her pretty face. Not waiting to be announced, she stormed impatiently into his chambers and viciously threw the shirt at him. "How could you?"

Surprised, Henry jumped up from behind the great mahogany desk he'd been sitting at. "Sweetheart, what is the matter?" Henry catches the shirt offhandedly, gazing at it in confusion before looking up to meet Anne's eyes.

"_She still sews your shirts!_" her tone harsh and unforgiving, Anne glares at him, not caring that he's the king. "You cannot have three people in a marriage!"

Approaching her like he would a wild animal, Henry gently places his hands on Anne's shoulders and meets her eyes. "I will speak to her about this at once," he promises gently, placing a kiss on her forehead.

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Katherine looked up from her embroidery in surprise as Henry came into her chambers unannounced. "Henry," she greeted him, a smile curving her mouth as she rose from her chair.

The words died slowly in Henry's mouth as he looked at the woman who'd been his wife for so long. Everything they'd been through together seemed to play in slow motion in his mind: Arthur's death, his father asking him on his death bed not to marry her, their marriage and coronation. They'd been so happy in the beginning, he recalled somewhat wistfully. He used to ride in the lists as her Sir Loyal Heart, always wearing her favors for luck. The many pregnancies and miscarriages came back to him as well, how they'd grieved together over the loss of the tiny infants who hadn't lived long enough to take their first breaths. Then, of course, there had been their little prince Henry who had lived for such a short time. They had Mary, the pearl of his world, who had been the only one of their children to survive infancy and was now a beautiful and intelligent little girl who would soon blossom into an even more beautiful young woman.

"Henry?" Katherine questioned gently, concern etched into her features. "Is something the matter?"

'_I'm still in love with her.'_ The thought hits Henry like a brick. He couldn't still love Katherine, he loved Anne now! Anne would give him the son he longed for, he was sure of it! If that were true, why couldn't he tell Katherine to stop making his shirts? Why did he allow his Great Matter to drag on this long, regardless of the fact that the Pope had yet to grant his annulment? "I still love you," he finally says, unaware of how true it was until the words leave his mouth.

Confused, she stares at him silently. Henry stands stock still before her, looking utterly vulnerable and lost as the words leave him. "You have an interesting way of showing it as of late, Henry." The words are harsh, she knows, but part of her wants to hurt him like he has hurt her. She'd shut her eyes and maintained her dignity while Henry had taken mistresses from her own ladies. It had hurt when Lady Blount gave Henry a living son, something she had not managed to do, but she'd managed not to resent the charming little boy. It was not his fault he wasn't her son and she'd refused to be seen as anything but the gracious queen the people loved so dearly. Now, as Henry's so-called Great Matter dragged on and he proceeded to make a fool of himself with that Boleyn whore, she could not shut her eyes to it any longer.

Flinching imperceptibly at the barb, Henry gazed at his queen beseechingly. She had to see that he loved her still, that he was willing to take her back! "Katherine… please… I want to give you another chance…"

Laughing bitterly, Katherine simply shakes her head slowly, looking incredulous. "_You_ want to give _me_ another chance? Henry, I don't know if _I _want to give _you_ another chance." With that, she turns and retreats into her chambers, closing the door firmly behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes – Wow, I was not expecting this story to get such a great reception! Thank you to all my reviewers, I will be sending each of you personalized thanks after I post this chapter. I welcome any and all ideas anyone has for how Henry should begin to try and woo Katherine back. I hope everyone continues to enjoy. Please remember to review! I love hearing my readers thoughts on this and all my stories.

Disclaimer – Don't own, don't sue.

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Katherine had to admit, she'd been utterly shocked at her own boldness. She'd always strived to be a dutiful and obedient wife like the bible admonished her to be, so for her to boldly call Henry out like she had was completely out of character for her. Later, Mistress Seymour had informed her that Henry had sought her out because that Boleyn whore had thrown a fit about her making his shirts. His shirts! The absurdity of it almost made her laugh aloud. Of all the childish and ridiculous things for her to whine about, it was shirts. Katherine was still Henry's lawful wife, while Mistress Anne was considered by a great deal of people to be nothing more than the king's whore.

_'I want to give you another chance.'_ Even now, Henry's words echoed in her mind as she tried in vain to concentrate on her prayers. If she was truly honest with herself, and she tried to be honest with herself in all things, the offer of reconciliation with her husband was indeed a tempting one. She had done absolutely nothing wrong, however, so why should she let _him _give _her _a second chance? It should be exactly the reverse, with _her _making the offer of reconciliation. The memories of their early days as a couple made her smile wistfully at the image of the Blessed Virgin before her. Where had that Henry gone? Her Sir Loyal Heart, the one who rescued her from her long and lonely years as a widow like a dashing knight in a fairy tale.

She'd known him since he was nothing more than the Duke of York, the second son who was destined for the clergy. The envy and desire that had shined in his eyes on the day of her ill-fated wedding to Arthur as he escorted her to the altar had made her knees weak and her stomach flop like a landed carp. Part of her had wanted to call of the wedding to Arthur, still a child in her eyes, to marry this dashing young man who would never know what it was like to marry. Losing Arthur had been painful, as she had grown to care about the man who was her husband in name if nothing else. The years as a widow had been terrible, but oh! When her father in law had finally died, Henry had ridden to her side almost instantly and pledged to marry her and take her away from widowhood. How they'd celebrated, those first few years.

Then there were the pregnancies, all the lost little babies who made her heart ache still. She loved her precious Mary but she could not help but wonder. Little Prince Henry had lived for such a short time, and when they had lost him she began to realize she was slowly losing her Henry. When she'd delivered the tiny prince, Henry had ordered masques, jousts and great feasts every day. She had been in confinement still, waiting to be churched, but that did not stop Henry from riding in the lists with her favors tied to his lance. Every day, he'd come into her chambers and told her how much he loved her and thanked her for giving him his prince at long last.

Kneeling before the Blessed Virgin, she closed her eyes and let her beads flow through her fingers in the comforting and familiar rhythm. She still prayed for the tiny babies she'd miscarried before they'd even had a chance to take a breath and for her beloved little prince. Now, as her lips moved in prayer, her mind was awhirl with Henry's words and reactions from the night before. A small sigh escaped her as she prayed, hoping that God would grant her a way to reconcile with her husband.

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The great hall was filled with lively music and the dull murmur of the court. Ladies and gentlemen alike danced to various tunes, laughing and making merry. Anne Boleyn could be seen amongst the various courtiers, casting gazes at the king who sat on a raised dais watching the court making merry. A goblet of wine dangled, still full, from his hand and an air of distraction clung to him.

"Is something the matter, Majesty?" Charles Brandon queried lowly, leaning over the chair to speak to his king and ensuring that they were not overheard.

"Hmmm…." the non-committal response came as the musicians' finished their current tune. The assembled dancers applauded politely, bowing and curtsying to one another before another tune, this one livelier than the last, began again. "I think, Charles, that I may have made a mistake."

Brandon gazed at him in silent confusion for a moment, before following the king's gaze to where the Lady Anne stood next to Mark Smeaton. The court's newest musician had an arm around the woman's shoulders, adjusting her hold on the violin that he was seldom seen without. Her dark eyes flashed in delight as he showed her a simple tune on the instrument. Before he could inquire after Henry's remark, the king was speaking again. "Meet me in my chambers one hour after I leave the banquet."

Charles nodded and bowed, mumbling an affirmative, "Yes, Majesty." The other man simply waved a dismissal as Anne began making her way through the crowd with Smeaton following behind her. As he left the hall, he couldn't help but notice that although Henry was smiling at the woman he professed to love, the smile did not reach the king's eyes.

Hours later, Henry let out a bone weary sigh as he sat heavily in one of the plush chairs in the anteroom of his private chambers. A merry fire burned brightly on the hearth and a servant had left a flagon of wine and two goblets on the table for him. When Charles finally arrived, Henry had been so lost in thought he didn't even realize his friend was there.

"Your Majesty?" Brandon queried hesitantly, dark eyes troubled as he gazed at the king.

"Sit, Charles and refresh yourself," Henry replied, waving a hand at the flagon of wine.

The duke bowed and poured a goblet, offering it to Henry first who waved it away. Making himself comfortable in a chair opposite his friend, Brandon raised the goblet to his lips as Henry began to speak.

"Anne discovered Katherine is still making my shirts. I promised her I would put a stop to it, but when I went to speak with the queen," here Henry paused and ran a hand through his short cropped hair before continuing, "I looked at her and realized that I still love her."

Nearly dropping the wine in surprise, Charles abruptly set the still full goblet on the table between them. They were almost four years into his 'Great Matter' as he called it. Henry had decided to divorce Katherine in order to marry Anne in an effort to father a legitimate son and now he was realizing that he still loved his queen? "What are you going to do, Majesty?"

Henry simply shook his head slowly. "I don't know, Charles. I told her I would give her a second chance, and she refused. She told me that she didn't know if she wanted to give _me_ a second chance! Can you believe that?

Privately, Brandon didn't blame Her Majesty at all. Henry had been acting like an utter fool in his pursuit of Anne, where before he'd managed to conduct his affairs with some semblance of dignity. Not that he would ever say this aloud, as he liked his head where it was. "What about the Lady Anne?"

Once again, Henry simply sighed and shook his head. "I don't know, Charles. All I know is I want Katherine back."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes – I'm so happy everyone is enjoying this story! I've noticed a lot of authors in this fandom have kind of glazed over the sweating sickness, and I can understand why. It's a pain to write! I had to put it in this chapter, because if you'll recall during the series in episode 1.07, when the sweat reaches London, Henry's first reaction is worry for Katherine, not Anne. Wynates is the name of William Compton's estate, just in case anyone wanted to know. I don't know how ya'll are gonna take this one. I put myself in Katherine's place to imagine what she would say. Certain dialouge is taken from episode 1.07.

Disclaimer - Still don't own.

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The feeling that she was slowly losing Henry unnerved Anne more than she could bring herself to say. She was not a stupid woman by any means, and she could tell when a gentleman's interest was beginning to wane. The night of the masque, she had done everything in her power to rouse Henry's attention. She'd flirted with other lords, and had danced with more than a few. The king had watched her, but there was no reaction. His eyes had seemed curiously blank when she'd noticed him watching her and that more than anything chilled her to the bone. Normally, his expressive eyes were warm with a healthy dose of lust and longing whenever he gazed upon her. That night… that night had changed everything she feared.

_'Maybe you can do something to… prolong his interest?' _Thomas Boleyn's words rang in her ears as she calmly guided her horse beside Henry. She could do that much, she reasoned. Henry was still trying to divorce Katherine, or so she believed. The trial was still dragging on all these years later, but now Henry wasn't pushing nearly as hard as he had been. He'd been his usual attentive self while they'd been on their ride to Wynates, but now he was oddly silent. News of the dreaded sweating sickness had reached the court, so obviously he was worried about that, she chided herself silently. Henry had a well known phobia of any sort of sickness, and hardly anyone seemed to be surviving this particular one.

As they approached Whitehall, people were crying out to him as usual but something was amiss. The horrible stench of vinegar permeated the air, though at the time neither of them recognized it. "What's that stink?" one of their entourage complained, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"It's vinegar, your Excellency!" Henry yelled out, terror sweeping through him. Katherine! Did she know, was she safe? What about Mary? Leaping from his horse, he swiftly hurried to one of the waiting nobles. "What has happened?"

"There's been an outbreak of sweating sickness in the city," the other man told him gravely, "three hundred deaths this day alone."

"Fetch Dr. Linacre immediately. What about my wife, the queen? What about my wife!?" Henry demanded, even as he was ushered into the castle.

Anne felt the blood drain from her face at Henry's insistent demands about Katherine. The queen may still be his wife, but Henry loved her now! Didn't he? Why hadn't he looked back and said something to her? George glanced at his sister, their eyes meeting as they both silently wondered the same thing: was Henry tiring of Anne?

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Katherine watched as her maids bustled about, taking great care with packing her things. Henry had decided that she and Mary would go to Wales in an effort to avoid the contagion. She accepted it, grateful to be able to spend time with her precious daughter but disliked leaving Henry's side. She was still his wife, and while she was angry at him, her place was by his side.

A swift knock on the door interrupted her musings, and moments later, Henry himself walked through the door. Her ladies curtsied gracefully before continuing their packing. A soft smile lit her features as she gazed at him inquiringly.

"I've come to say good-bye," he said formally, trying his best to hide his emotions. What was it about this woman that made him feel like this?

Picking up her jewelry casket, she approached him swiftly. "Are you pleased to be sending me away?" she demanded in her soft way, meeting his gaze boldly.

"You don't want to see our daughter?" He replied stiffly, trying his best to evade her question.

"You send me away so you can be with _her,_" Katherine replied, her tone becoming cold and hard.

"No, she- you mean the Lady Anne Boleyn?" Henry asked, realizing what she meant. She thought he was sending her away to be with Anne? "Leave us," he directed to her ladies, who looked up startled before curtsying and obeying. "She is going back to Hever. One of her maids died of the sweat in front of her."

Swiftly moving to a nearby table, she set the casket down before turning around to face him once more. "And your fear of the sweat is greater than the love of your mistress?"

"Katherine, she is not my mistress," Henry could feel his temper growing, but for once managed to rein it in. "I do not sleep with her, not whilst you and I are still married."

"But do you tell her that you love her, as you once told me?" She queried as she slowly walked to stand before him, refusing to back down.

Gently, he placed both hands on each of her arms, staring boldly into her eyes. How he wished he could say that he did not love her anymore, as he once had at the beginning of his courtship with Anne! Now he could easily see that this was not the case, that he did love her still. "Katherine," he began and then trailed off, not knowing what to say. What could he say to make her forgive him? What could he do to show her he loved her still? He hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud until she gently caressed his cheek.

His eyes shined with unshed tears as he looked at her. She could feel tears prick her own eyes as she gazed at him, wondering just how sincere he was. "Henry, I've already forgiven you countless times," she said softly, watching as hope seemed to blossom in his eyes, "but I do not know if I can forgive you this."

Shaking, Henry felt his knees go weak and he fell to them before her. Wrapping both arms around her still slender waist, he sobbed into her dress even as her arms came around him comfortingly. She had to forgive him, she had to! He would find a way to make her forgive him, even if it was the last thing he did, he vowed to himself.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Notes - Thank you everyone for your continued support! Your reviews and encouragement make this story possible. I'm glad I've managed to capture Katherine's character so well and I hope I continue to do so. This is a seriously long chapter, mostly because I just couldn't decide when to stop writing! Next chapter should be up soon. In the mean time, as always, please read and review! Oh, and the Mistress Blount mentioned is **NOT **the same Elizabeth Blount who gave birth to Henry FitzRoy. Completely different lady.

Disclaimer - Don't own, don't sue.

The memorial service for the dead was a sobering one. Henry sat beside Katherine in stoic silence, eyes distant as the ethereal sounds of the requiem filled the chapel. News had arrived from Hever weeks ago that Anne had contracted and survived the sweat. He'd been relieved to hear that she'd survived but now the question remained: what could he do to win his way back to Katherine's heart? Observing her from the corner of his eye, she was every bit the queen she'd been raised to be. Her gaze was solemn, focused on the choir, dressed in the somber mourning clothes the entire court had donned. He'd been absurdly grateful she'd survived, especially with the death of people like Wolsey. His best advisor had contracted the sweat and had been one of its many casualties. Maybe More would know what he should do. Thomas was his most trusted friend and advisor, after all. With that settled, he bowed his head with the rest to pray for the souls of the deceased.

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"I wish to put an end to this divorce business."

Thomas More prided himself on always being composed but now he had to fight the urge to gape at his former pupil. They were alone in Henry's privy chamber, the king having taken great pains to make sure no servants were around to overhear them. "Majesty?" he finally asked, trying to recover from the sudden shock. Did Henry truly mean to forgo this divorce and return to Queen Katherine?

Scrubbing a hand across his face, Henry eyed the older man. He'd known his decision was going to shock a great deal of people, but if that was what it took to win his queen back, he would do it and to hell with everyone. "I made a mistake, Thomas. I wish to put an end to this divorce."

"Are you certain, Harry? I feel that if you should change your mind again, the people may not be willing to forgive you," More cautioned gently. Thomas knew he was playing with fire, but he had to be honest with the king. The common people had not been pleased when Henry began seeking the divorce in order to marry Mistress Boleyn. Katherine was a good and fair queen and no one, including Thomas himself, wanted to see her set aside.

"I'm certain, Thomas. I have made a mistake in pursuing this matter for so long. Katherine and I have a lawful and true marriage, and I no longer wish to set her aside," Henry reaffirmed solidly. A sudden movement behind a curtained hallway caused the curtain to move ever so slightly. He'd asked one of his wife's ladies to hide behind a curtain and listen to his words and now he smiled to himself, knowing the young lady was off to report back to her mistress what she'd just heard.

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_'You've come back from the dead! Do you know what this means? You can go back to the king!'_

Her father's words had haunted her since the day of what her father viewed as her miraculous recovery. It had taken weeks for her to regain her strength and now that she'd recovered fully, they were all anxiously awaiting an invitation to return to court. A servant had rushed in not half an hour ago to inform them that people dressed in the king's livery had been spotted on the road to Hever. Servants were running to-and-fro, making sure everything was in readiness for the king's arrival. Anne's spirits lifted when she saw the riders enter the courtyard and without hesitation, she hurried down the stairs to greet the king.

"His Grace, the Duke of Suffolk!"

What was going on? Anne wondered to herself, meeting her brother's gaze as they waited in the common room. Where was Henry? Maybe he had been delayed and sent Suffolk on ahead to inform them the king would be coming shortly. Silently, she prayed that was the truth.

"Your Grace," Thomas Boleyn greeted, giving the slightest of bows which was returned by Brandon.

"My Lord Rochford," Charles replied, returning the insult of a bow. "I come with a message from the king."

Something about this did not feel right. Anne felt her knees tremble as she met Suffolk's gaze. It was a well-known fact the two of them didn't get along, but now his gaze was filled with pity. _No, oh please God, no…_

"His Majesty is grateful that you have made a full recovery. However, his Majesty states that you and your family are to remain here in Hever, until he summons you again." The words were delivered in the kindest tone one could manage, but Charles could tell that they'd hit their mark regardless. Anne became suddenly pale as she sat heavily in a cushioned seat. Thomas looked completely outraged, and George looked rather confused.

"We are banished from court?" Thomas finally managed, forcing the words out. What on earth could possibly have happened? Things were going so well for them and now they were to be banished from court.

"Yes, my Lord, I'm afraid you are," Charles replied, glancing uneasily at the now pale and shaking Lady Anne. The Boleyn men looked stunned, almost unable to comprehend the fact that they were now banished. With a final bow, he turned on his heel and walked away.

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"He said that your Majesty's marriage was a true and lawful union and that he no longer wishes to set your Majesty aside." The young lady reported, keeping her eyes downcast respectfully as she reported all she'd heard to the queen.

"Thank you, Mistress Blount. That will be all," Katherine replied calmly, but inside her thoughts were racing. Was Henry truly calling of this farce? It really seemed too good to be true. What of Lady Anne? Just thinking of the young woman who'd served in her household and then went on to try and usurp her rightful place as both Henry's wife and queen made her blood boil. She was all too aware of how ambitious the Boleyn family was and just how close she'd come to losing Henry to that scheming little wench. With a quiet sigh, she set aside the delicate shift she'd been embroidering for her daughter Mary and rose. Taking the few steps to her writing desk, she settled in the comfortable chair provided for her. Could she forgive him? Katherine honestly wasn't sure. She loved her husband, truly she did, but part of her didn't want to forgive him. She could close her eyes to his many affairs, knowing that he was both a man and the king. She couldn't expect him to remain faithful all the time, especially the times she'd been pregnant and unable to fulfill her duties in the marriage bed. The thought of being set aside like she was nothing for the daughter of a knight rankled. She was the daughter of Isabella and Ferdinand, and as such, she would fight for her right as queen until the breath left her body. There could be no doubt that Henry truly meant his words about their union before she would even consider forgiving him, she decided. Grabbing a quill, she gently trimmed the nib before dipping it in ink and beginning to write. Moments later, she studied the contents briefly before nodding in satisfaction. "Please take this to the king," she commanded, folding the parchment and sealing it before handing it over to one of her ladies. "Make sure to get a response before returning."

The young lady curtsied, murmuring a soft, "Yes, Milady," before rising and shuffling out of her chambers.

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Henry looked up alertly as one of Katherine's ladies was announced. The young woman curtsied, and waited. "You bring something from your mistress?" he asked, nodding his permission for her to rise up.

"Yes, your Majesty. Her majesty requests a response as well, sire," she told him politely, handing over the parchment before curtsying again and stepping back.

Breaking the seal, he skimmed the letter briefly. A smile lit his features and he had to restrain himself from whooping with joy. "You may tell her majesty that I will indeed dine with her tonight," he finally answered, unable to contain the joy lacing his words. Clearly this meant she was on the verge of forgiveness, he couldn't help but think happily as the young woman left his presence. Or was she? The letter was politely worded, only asking him to join her for supper in her chambers if it so pleased him.

Why couldn't she see he did indeed still love her? What would it take for her to accept his love once more and forgive him? He'd freely admitted their union was a true and lawfully one, though the thought of begging the pope for forgiveness went against his pride. This very day, he'd decided to banish the whole Boleyn family from court, vowing to never see Anne again. With her gone, could Katherine forgive him? He certainly hoped so.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Notes – Look at this, two chapters in one day! I'm spoiling you guys today. I've lowered the age difference between Henry and Katherine, for plot devices, as well as various other characters. In the show, Katherine was dark haired as opposed to real life, in which she had strawberry blonde hair. I've chosen to go with her actual hair color. After the scene with Henry and Katherine, it jumps a head a little to further the plot. Also, question for my loyal readers: should Henry and Katherine have a child in this story?

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Holbein had really outdone himself, Henry mused as he surveyed the artist's latest creation. Katherine was not really one for jewels, beyond the jewels of state that were hers by right. A silver pendant shaped like a pomegranate, Katherine's personal symbol lay on a small purple pillow. Rubies glittered brightly in the firelight and he smiled to himself. He'd commissioned the piece as a surprise for her and what better time to give her this than the dinner she'd invited him to share with her in her chambers? Smiling in self-satisfaction, he gently covered it with a velvet cloth before picking it up and heading to her chambers.

Katherine looked up from her place at the table, laden with dishes waiting to be consumed. Henry couldn't help but stare at his wife. What had possessed him to think about giving her up? She was still every bit as beautiful as she'd been when he'd first set eyes on her. Her blue eyes were soft as she met his gaze, and a tiny smile graced her features as she stood to greet him and held her hands out to him. "Henry."

Mentally shaking off his reverie, he returned her gaze and bowed slightly to her. "Katherine. You look wonderful, sweetheart," he told her, gently grasping her hand and pressing a kiss to it. "I have a gift for you." With a small flourish, he proceeded to present her with the tiny pillow on which his gift rested.

With a gentle smile, she carefully lifted the cover and couldn't restrain the gasp that escaped her. "Oh, Henry… it's absolutely beautiful," she said with a quiet sigh, hesitantly reaching out to touch the pendant.

"May I?" he inquired, gesturing at the necklace. At her brief nod, he set the pillow down and grabbed the necklace. Moving behind her, he slowly placed it around her neck, pressing a brief kiss to her shoulder as he did so. Goose bumps broke out across her shoulders, and he smirked to himself, glad he could still affect in her in such a way. Moving away as she turned to face him, he pulled her chair out and gestured chivalrously for her to sit.

Katherine fought the urge to eye her husband suspiciously, wondering what exactly he was up to. Henry hadn't acted like this in years. First the compliment, then the necklace, and now he was acting the part of a chivalrous knight. Not wishing to call him out right away, she inclined her head in thanks as she took her place at the table.

As soon as she was settled, Henry took his place at the opposite end. Servants carefully filled their goblets and plates, before stepping back a pace to give the couple a measure of privacy. Comfortable silence was shared for several moments as the two began their meal. "Lady Seymour told me something interesting today," Katherine began, taking a careful sip of wine as she watched his reaction.

"What would that be, sweetheart?" Henry knew good and well what the young Seymour woman had told her, as he'd been the one to ask the young woman to deliberately over hear his conversation with Thomas More earlier.

"She told me that you're calling a stop to the issue of divorce," she replied after a moment, gently tearing a piece of meat with knife and fork before bringing it to her mouth.

Henry nodded in agreement. "That's true. I told you I still loved you and I meant it. I now mean to prove to you the truth of my words."

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"Is it true your Excellency? Father has banished his concubine?" Mary Tudor questioned excitedly, staring at the Imperial ambassador with hope shining in her bright blue eyes.

Eustace Chapuys had been skeptical when he'd heard the rumors that Henry had indeed seen sense at long last and had sent that Boleyn whore back to Kent. Now, a smile lit his face at Mary's obvious joy at the news. "Yes, your Highness, it is true. He sent the Duke of Suffolk to break the news to her, rather than go himself. Her entire family is banished until further notice, by order of the king."

"Praise God," Mary breathed, crossing herself devoutly as Chapuys did the same. She'd prayed and prayed for her father to come to his senses and now it seemed her prayers were at long last answered. Part of her wondered what had happened to make him send his whore away but the bigger part of her no longer cared. He was still her papa, and she was still the pearl of his world. She and her mother were no longer in danger of being cast aside for the harlot and whatever children she may have given her father.

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_Oh, no… this can't be!_ Anne nearly sobbed in despair. When it had looked as though the divorce was to be finalized, she'd at long last given into Henry's desires. Then, she'd had him under her control. He was set to divorce Katherine and marry her, making her the next queen of England. Now… now, she'd been cast aside like so much garbage and Henry had called of his divorce! Her father had been furious, demanding to know what she'd done to anger the king. She'd done nothing more than what her father and uncle Norfolk had wanted her to do. She may not be responsible for bringing down Wolsey, the sweat having taken care of him, but she'd kept the king's interest only to lose it.

Now, her courses were almost a month past due. Lately, she'd been waking up with nausea and her breasts had started to become sore. This couldn't be happening! She hadn't let him release inside her, having managed to garner enough strength in the throes of passion to push him off before he could. Obviously, it hadn't been enough. Her hand strayed to her stomach, where the king's bastard grew beneath her hand. This child should have been legitimate, her mind cried out at the unfairness. Maybe, she reasoned half-hysterically, if she gave him a son she could win him back. _Please, God, let me give him a son!_


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Notes – Geez, I'm spoiling you guys and gals! Two chapters yesterday _and _a new chapter today! Everyone seems to be split on the issue of Henry and Katherine having another child and if it should be a boy or a girl. That's still at least a few chapters off, so I'm sure I will make my mind up by the time I get around to that. I'm hesitant to give Anne a boy in this story, as she will be having a boy in my other story and I don't want the two plot lines getting mixed up. Yeah, Henry was known as a great seducer but I honestly think that's just because women never turned him down. He was the king after all. As always, read, review and enjoy!

Disclaimer – Still own nothing.

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How did one seduce one's own wife? Henry mused to himself as he strolled leisurely through one of the many gardens surrounding the castle. Seduction was not something he'd ever been particularly skilled at, regardless of how many maidens he'd bedded. Often the women were brought to his attention by their own families, each eager to try and curry favor with the king. Seducing Katherine was proving to be a challenge in its own right. She'd been greatly pleased with the necklace he'd commissioned for her, wearing it whenever she appeared with him in public. Her nephew had sent a letter not a week before, praising Henry for seeing sense and ending this messy divorce business. Even his subjects seemed happier, reports told him, calling for god to bless the king and queen. Earning her forgiveness and his place in her heart once more was proving to be more difficult than winning the hearts of his people and allies.

Frowning briefly to himself, he visibly brightened a moment later. "Charles!" he cried out in a moment of sudden inspiration. Of course! How could he not have thought of it before! His friend was rumored to be able to seduce any woman and if anyone could help, it would be him.

Brandon jumped slightly at Henry's sudden exuberant outburst. _What on earth..?_ He wondered briefly. "What is it, your Majesty?" He finally asked, taking a step closer to his king.

"How would you go about seducing a lady?"

Gaping in a most unattractive manner, Charles couldn't help but stare at his king. Henry needed his help to seduce someone? He'd thought his king reconciled with his queen. They certainly appeared to be so in public, holding hands and gazing at each other lovingly. Why was Henry trying to risk losing his wife again?

He let out a sigh of relief when Henry went on, "The queen and I are still not on the best of terms. I've done everything I could think of, Charles. I've given her jewelry, flowers, written her poems, everything!"

Throwing up his hands in mock defeat, Henry huffed in annoyance. Why was Katherine being so difficult about this? Several women had practically thrown themselves at him and he'd patiently rejected them all. He'd nearly lost Katherine because of another woman and he'd was determined he would not make the same mistake twice.

For once, Charles was at a loss for words. All the things Henry had claimed to have done normally did the trick for him. That and telling a young maid he loved her worked wonders sometimes. Obviously that wasn't going to do it for Henry. "Mayhap try spending more time with her?" He finally suggested with a shrug. His wife, the king's own sister, always liked that. "Get her talking and simply listen, women love that."

Grudgingly, he had to admit Charles was right about that. Before whenever Katherine had started prattling on about one thing or another, he'd brusquely brushed her off. "I can do that," he finally agreed, nodding. "What else?"

"Bring Princess Mary back to court?" This was suggested with the slightest hint of hesitance. The entire court knew that the queen had not been pleased when Henry had shipped their daughter off to Wales. Officially, it had been a move to signify that Henry accepted his daughter as his heir. Unofficially, it had been to essentially weaken Katherine's position as he courted Anne Boleyn. Now, with the entire Boleyn family banished to Kent, Charles personally saw no reason why mother and daughter could not be reunited.

Henry frowned slightly at the suggestion but after pondering it a moment, he nodded again. It made good sense, using their daughter to get back in his wife's good graces. Mary had been ill awhile back and while he'd told Katherine to go to their daughter, she'd stubbornly refused. Her place was at his side she had asserted and had instead spent many an hour praying for her daughter's return to health. "Very well, then. Princess Mary will come to court. Send someone to Ludlow to fetch her immediately."

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"Was there anything you'd like to talk about, sweetheart?" Henry asked genially a few nights later. Once again, they were taking supper in her rooms, away from the prying eyes of court. Only one of his grooms and one of her ladies were there to attend them at their meal, and both were making an attempt to be as unobtrusive as possible.

"I was wondering perhaps if I might be permitted to visit Mary soon," she agreed, wiping her fingers on the napkin her lady held for her.

A mischievous smile lit her husband's face, and for a moment, he looked like a little boy again. "Wouldn't you prefer it for her to come here?" He suggested slyly, trying his best to look completely innocent.

"Well, yes, I would enjoy that greatly. It has been too long since we were all together." She admitted, wondering if he was getting at what she was thinking. Had he invited Mary back to court without her knowledge?

With a tiny gesture to his footman that went unnoticed by Katherine, Henry smiled. "Indeed it has," he agreed, even as a herald suddenly announced the princess' arrival.

Katherine could not hold back the gasp of delight that left her as Mary was shown into her chambers. "Mary!" she cried out in delight, pushing away from the table and rising to greet her daughter. Henry watched them for a moment, smiling in delight as his two favorite women reunited. _Maybe Charles was right, _Henry mused to himself, taking note of how Katherine's eyes shined with gratitude as she met his gaze. Maybe this was the way to win Katherine back.

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Something was wrong with his sister, George just knew. They were barely two months into their exile from court and she'd been pale and quiet ever since Suffolk came to inform them of their banishment. Their father had turned on them both the second the duke left, demanding to know what it was that they had done to deserve this. Anne had shaken her head mutely, looking utterly heartbroken and defeated. George himself had declared their innocence, having no idea what he could possibly have done to earn the whole family banishment.

Letters that Thomas Boleyn sent to the king went unanswered and now their father had holed himself up in his study. Tiptoeing past the door, George breathed a sigh of relief before scurrying to Anne's rooms. Knocking softly, he entered quietly without waiting for a reply. Her lithe form could barely be seen in the dimness of her chambers, sitting quietly at the window and staring outside. "Anna Maria," he called coaxingly," whatever is the matter?"

"I cannot tell you George," her response was quiet but easily heard in the silence of her chambers.

"Of course you can, I'm your big brother," he replied, quickly walking to her side and kneeling beside her.

She shook her head, gaze distant. "No, I cannot. You'll tell _him._"

Unable to deny it, George remained silent. Pressing a gentle kiss to his sister's hand, he stared up at her beseechingly. "Come now, Anne, you can tell me. I swear I won't tell."

A soft sigh escaped her as she once more returned her gaze to the outside world. "I'm with his Majesty's child," she finally admitted, one hand resting softly on her still flat stomach.

To this, George didn't know what to say.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Notes – Keep in mind, I don't speak Spanish. The couple spainish sentences between Mary and Katherine were found via google, so they may be wrong. Perdóname, no sé en qué estaba pensando is supposed to mean, forgive me. I don't know what I was thinking while Está bien is supposed to mean it's alright. I don't mind spoiling my faithful readers, as you keep me writing and make this story possible. I try to respond to everyone, but I don't always get a chance. Please know, your words of encouragement mean a lot to me and I do read every single one I get.

Edit - I'm seriously considering killing off Papa Boleyn. Any objections?

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Sir Thomas More rubbed vainly at his temples, trying his best to stave off the impeding headache blossoming between his eyes. A new and sudden admiration for Cardinal Wolsey struck him as he realized just how much work being Henry's Lord Chancellor entailed. He and the cardinal had never really gotten along, maintaining a façade of friendliness in public. Upon the cardinal's death from the sweat, Henry had almost at once made him his new Lord Chancellor. Thomas had not felt he deserved such an honor, but how did one say no to the king?

Letters from Thomas Boleyn had been arriving on his desk since the king had banished the Boleyn family in its entirety from court. More had read a few of them, informing Henry that the letters contained pleas for a return to court. He'd promptly ordered all correspondence from Boleyn to be burned, wanting absolutely nothing to do with them any longer. Dutifully, Thomas had complied but now he hesitated. The letter in his hand was not addressed to the king, but to More himself. The writing wasn't the now familiar script of Thomas Boleyn, nor did it look like a ladies writing so it could not be Anne. _Not that she would write me anyway_, he mused wryly. He'd made it abundantly clear she could not look to him as an ally. He would only recognize one queen and that was Katherine.

So if it wasn't Anne or her father writing to him who was? He frowned slightly in thought before he vaguely recalled that Thomas Boleyn had a son, George. Could that be who wrote this? Part of him wanted to cast the letter in the fire, along with all the others. Another part though wondered what exactly was so important that George would risk his father's wrath to send Thomas a letter. Sighing, he grabbed his letter opener and broke the wax seal. Unfolding it carefully, he sat back in his chair and began to read.

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"So it's true mama? Papa really banished his concubine from court?" Mary questioned eagerly in Spanish, all too aware of her mother's ladies lounging nearby. It was a lovely day and she'd convinced her mama to have a picnic in one of her favorite gardens. Now, they all lounged under the shade of a great tree, a small feast laid out before them. Her mother's ladies were talking amongst themselves as they carefully stitched clothing to be given to the poor.

Blue eyes flashed dangerously at her daughter's words. "Mary," she rebuked gently, frowning at her daughter's language. "That is no way for a princess to speak."

"Perdóname, no sé en qué estaba pensando," Mary replied casting her gaze downward. She knew she shouldn't say such things but it was hard not to. She'd been absolutely furious with her father these past years, unable to believe her loving papa was trying to set aside her beloved mama for a woman she viewed as a harlot. "Have you forgiven him yet?"

**"**Está bien," Katherine replied with a soft smile, before frowning slightly at her daughter's next question. Had she forgiven Henry? No, not yet. He'd been trying, she admitted, bringing her lovely jewels, writing her letters and poems. He'd even brought her beloved Mary back to court, just for her. Banishing that Boleyn girl and her wretched family had only been the start.

He no longer even went wenching, vowing to her in private that he would remain chaste until she forgave him and invited him back to her bed. She'd been privately skeptical about this vow, knowing Henry a little too well to truly believe it. He'd apparently meant it though, as several of her ladies had heard various women muttering about how the king had rejected them when they had offered themselves. _Maybe it is time I forgive him, _she mused silently as she turned Mary's attention away from her parents and onto her studies.

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Mary Tudor, Duchess of Suffolk, clutched her ribs as she laughed hysterically. "Henry asked you, his brother-in-law, how to seduce a woman?" she gasped out, unable to stop laughing. Oh, that was priceless! What on earth had her brother been thinking? Did he forget that while Charles was indeed something of a rake, the man was also married to his baby sister?

"It's not that funny, Mary," Charles told her, crossing his arms over his chest but even he couldn't hold back a smile at the memory. "And my advice obviously worked."

Finally getting control of herself Mary chuckled at her husband's prim tone. "If you say so, Charles," she agreed readily, smiling as she walked into their bedchambers. Servants scurried about, packing her things and making ready to go back to court. She had retreated to Suffolk when her brother was making such a fuss over that Boleyn girl, not wanting to have any part of it. She had nothing but respect and admiration for her sister-in-law and was not about to watch as this great woman was humiliated by her own husband. Now that the Boleyn's had been banished from court, Mary was more than willing to come back and make peace with her brother.

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"Henry, may I have a word with you?" Thomas More questioned lowly, having hurried to keep up with Henry's fast pace.

"Make it quick, Thomas. I'm meeting with my daughter to go riding," Henry replied, pulling on his riding gloves. He and Mary had not gotten to spend much time together, as she preferred to be with her mother after their long separation. An invitation to go riding with her father had been quickly accepted.

"I received a letter from George Boleyn," Thomas told him hesitantly, knowing how the king would react at hearing the Boleyn name again.

Henry scowled and stopped, glaring at his Lord Chancellor. "I've told you before Thomas, I want nothing to do with that entire family."

"I know, sire, but-"Thomas began but was quickly cut off.

"There is nothing more to say, Sir Thomas. I want absolutely nothing to do with them and that's final. Now, if you will excuse me," the king ground out, stalking past More and into the courtyard where a groom waited with his horse. Thomas watched him go, wondering how he was going to break the news that Anne Boleyn was pregnant with the king's bastard.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Notes- Haha, I didn't think there would be any objection to killing off Papa Boleyn. Also, Coture212 pointed out that in chapter two there was a bit of confusion regarding Henry and Katherine's age difference. I hadn't originally intended to lower the age gap between them, but as the plot grew, it just made more sense to do so. Also, I think Katherine probably would have viewed Arthur as a child in this story because in most stories and novels about this era, Arthur is portrayed as being weak and frail. Most historians disagree with this view, but I've chosen to use it for plot devices. Sorry for any confusion regarding this. Also, I've chose to put the relationship between Mark Smeaton and George Boleyn in this story; I hope there's no objection. Nothing graphic beyond a kiss or two and yes, George will likely still end up married. I haven't decided on that one. This chapter focuses mainly on Anne's plight and the death of papa Boleyn. I promise, back to Henry and Katherine next chapter. As always, enjoy and don't forget to leave a review!

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A week after George sent the letter to Thomas More, he walked into his father's study only to find the old man slumped over. Physicians were summoned immediately but there was nothing they or anyone else could do. Thomas Boleyn was dead. As the funeral plans were made, George couldn't help but feel slightly relieved. God only knew how their father would have acted with the knowledge of Anne's pregnancy, but now they didn't need to worry about it. Thomas had seemed in perfect health, but clearly his fall from grace had not served him well.

He'd quickly begun a rumor that Anne was too distraught to attend their father's funeral. Now going on five months pregnant, there was no way they could possibly deny the fact. Letters had to be written to their uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, as well as their Howard relatives. Throwing his quill down after the last letter had been penned George sat back and flexed his cramped hand. There was so much to be done, not just about the funeral for the man who fathered him but also about Anne and her pregnancy. Midwives had to be contacted before too much longer, as well as physicians to attend her in the event something went wrong.

"How is she?" the soft words from the entrance to what was now his study made him jump. Mark Smeaton gave an apologetic smile as he entered.

"Mark?" George questioned, blinking in surprise. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"When my patroness was banished from court, it was made abundantly clear that anyone who was friendly with her or her family was no longer welcome," Mark explained, giving an indifferent shrug. "And so, here I am."

Rising quickly to his feet, George was around the great desk and hugging the other man with all his strength. "I'm so happy to see you," he breathed, burying his face in his lover's neck.

Mark patted his back soothingly, like one would an upset child. It had to hurt to lose a father, even one as ambitious and uncaring as Thomas Boleyn. "You never answered my question, George. How is the lady Anne?"

Sighing softly, George released him and stepped back before a servant could try and interrupt them. "She's not well," he finally replied hesitantly.

"I can't imagine losing a father is easy," Mark replied calmly, knowing there had to be more to the story than that. "May I see her?"

"I believe Anne would like that," George agreed, remembering how well the two had always gotten along before. "How long are you staying?"

"Well, that all depends on you, doesn't it? I have no intentions of going back to court any time soon," he replied as the two men made their way out of the study.

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"Anna-Maria, I've brought you a surprise," George called out in a singsong voice as he entered his sister's chambers with Smeaton in tow.

Anne looked up from the embroidery she was working on and let out a startled gasp. "Mark!" she cried in delight, swiftly rising to her feet.

Dark eyes widened as Mark took in Anne's obviously pregnant stomach. Hastily averting his eyes, he bowed gallantly to the young woman. "Milady Anne, as always it's a pleasure."

She hadn't missed the look he'd given her belly. Placing a gently hand on the swell of her stomach, she sighed voluptuously. "I bet you didn't expect that," she told him mildly, carefully lowering herself back into her chair.

"We can say it's mine," George blurted unexpectedly. Both looked at him: Anne in surprise and Mark in shock. "No one has to know that the baby is yours, Anne. We can say it is mine, if the king doesn't acknowledge the child." He hadn't even been aware of the idea slowly growing in his mind since Anne had confessed to him until now. It made perfect sense. There were a few who might question it, but better for him to have an illegitimate child than _Anne._ It was possible to make a good match if the king acknowledged the child but as no one had replied to his letter, he doubted the king was even aware of the possibility.

"No, George," Anne finally spoke, gazing longingly out of the window. "I can't let you do that. This is my burden to bear, not yours." She had gambled everything on giving in to Henry, and now it was clear that she'd lost everything. Father was with mother now, hopefully at peace. Her child, her son or daughter, grew steadily beneath her hand. She found herself no longer caring about anything except the tiny life growing inside her. "It's all over. All of father's scheming, the plotting, everything. We bet everything and lost."

She'd lost him. Henry had returned to Katherine, not even caring that she'd survived the sweat. _I should have known, _she thought wistfully. That day, when they'd come back from their ride only to find that the sweat had come to London. Henry hadn't a thought for her then, his first panicked words being about his wife. She hadn't intended to love him, had been warned against it by her father and uncle. She was only to seduce him, to bring Wolsey down and titles and riches to her family. Instead, she'd come close to becoming his wife and queen and had fallen desperately in love with him. Now, all she had left were broken dreams and a small life inside her. She would always have a part of him, through their child, whether he acknowledged it or not.

Anne would know the truth. She would bear the king's child and become an old maid, living only for her child if she had to. It was over.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Notes - So, it never occurred to me to look up the date when George Boleyn would have married Jane Parker (aka Lady Rochford). Yes, I'm a dingbat. Just when I thought I'd gotten a fairly decent timeline going, something like that is brought to my attention. So, no, George isn't married to Jane Parker. Ah, well. I'll still probably have him get married but not anytime soon, I don't think. I'm figuring this story takes place between 1532 and 1533. The first half was in winter 1532 and now we're around July of 1533, as Elizabeth I was born in 7 September 1533. And I know I promised Henry/Katherine in this chapter but instead you get Henry and his sister reuniting. Sorry, just the way the muses decided to go. As always, enjoy and don't forget to review! This is turning into my second longest and second most reviewed story on here! I'm so excited! Whoever is my 50th reviewer will get to request a ficlet from me, just for them! Also, please vote on the poll on my profile! I need an answer on the sex of Anne's baby, as I plan to have her go into labor and give birth within the next two chapters.

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"The Lady Anne Boleyn is with child," Thomas stated quite calmly, he thought, having finally cornered Henry and forced him into a private meeting. That actually hadn't been that hard, as the king had appeared to be in a spectacular mood. Now, though, the young king looked furious at the mention of his former mistress.

"What of it?" Henry growled out, eyes narrowing dangerously at his Lord Chancellor. His day had been going so well, until this. Katherine had finally, _finally_, given in and declared she forgave him. They'd spent a wonderful night together and now his great mood was spoiled. His sister was due back at court today, and he'd been so looking forward to making amends with Mary. He could freely admit he hadn't handled the news that his sister had married Suffolk after the death of her husband, King Louis XII. He'd managed to get over that when she'd told him that she refused to bow to that cow he called his mistress and future wife before she returned to her husband's estate in Suffolk.

"It is claimed the child is your majesty's," More replied, looking at him expectantly. He'd braced himself for this day since he'd received George Boleyn's letter informing him of Anne's pregnancy and who she claimed the father was. Now, almost a month later, he'd finally been able to deliver the news to the king.

Henry felt himself pale, and then redden. How dare she? They lay together _once_, and now she was claiming he'd fathered her child? "Impossible, we were together only once," he finally stated, waving it off. The child in Anne's womb had to be another man's. It simply had to be. Katherine had forgiven him at last and now that self-serving little minx was trying to destroy the happiness that he'd worked so hard to re-cultivate between him and his wife.

"Oh for the love of God, Henry!" Thomas practically shouted, throwing his hands in the air in a defeated gesture. "Do you hear yourself? No man at court would have been stupid enough to encroach on what they viewed as your territory! They all like their heads where they are!" Disgusted with the king's attitude More spun on his heel and stormed out of the privy chamber. No doubt he'd hear about this show of disrespect later, but he couldn't bring himself to be near his former pupil right now.

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"Bless me, father, for I have sinned."

The priest sitting in the confessional booth had been startled when the king's voice came from the other side. Henry's last confession had found the elderly priest blushing as the king had matter-of-factly recounted his infidelities. It was a good thing he had long ago quenched the desire for pleasures of the flesh, he had reckoned to himself after saying the words of absolution and giving Henry his penance. "What is this sin, my son?" he finally replied, gazing at the silhouette of the king through the screen between him and the confessional booth.

"I have been angry and proud, though this is nothing new," was the reply before the other man trailed off briefly. "I fear I have also been untruthful to my wife. "

This was new. "In what way, my son?" he asked quietly, knowing better than to push.

"I told my wife that I did not lay with the Lady Anne when in-fact I had," the response was slow in coming, as if he didn't want to even acknowledge the fact that he'd done such a thing. "And now I fear the lady to be with my child."

The old man sighed wearily. This was just what the king needed. He'd been privately thrilled when his monarchs had reconciled, glad that they'd managed to put this ugly talk of divorce behind them. Now, the king's ex-mistress was pregnant and claiming the child was the king's. This would break poor Queen Katherine's heart. "Then you must tell her," he finally told Henry. "Rumors spread about like wildfire and I believe the queen would rather hear it from you."

"I cannot! Don't you see?" Henry's voice was pleading and it sounded almost like he was on the verge of breaking down and crying. "She has forgiven me at last and I fear she will never forgive me this!"

"I believe she would be more willing to forgive you upon hearing it from your lips and not a stranger's," the priest replied evenly.

Silence reigned between the two men hidden within the confessional. "Is that all you wished to confess my son?"

"Yes, Father," the monarch replied quietly.

"Then as your penance, you are to be truthful with your wife and admit to your infidelity. Say fourteen rosaries as well," he instructed, making the sign of the cross and beginning to speak the words of absolution.

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"Is something wrong, Harry?" Mary questioned, glancing over at her brother as they walked quietly around one of the tranquil ponds surrounding the castle. Swans glided regally over the water, keeping a watch on the two humans to make sure their nest was undisturbed. "You've been awfully distant today," she observed, taking note of the preoccupied look he wore.

Heaving a sigh, Henry forced a quick smile. "I could never hide anything from you, sister. You know me too well."

Mary smiled at that, linking her arm through her brothers and steering him down the walking path. Guards followed at a discreet distance, keeping their king in their sight while trying to give the siblings a measure of peace. "Yes, well, that's why you love me," she teased gently.

"Indeed," He replied, patting his sister's hand idly. "I don't know what to do, Mary."

Sometimes, Henry swore he saw his mother gazing back at him when he looked at his sister. Especially now as the grey eyes Mary had inherited from their mother, Elizabeth of York stared into his. "Oh, Henry you didn't," she finally breathed, looking at him pleadingly. "Things are going so well with you and Katherine, do you really want to jeopardize that?"

"No! No, it's not what you think," he quickly replied, knowing instinctively that his sister believed him to have taken on a mistress again. "I have taken no mistress."

"Then what is it? It's not like that harlot is with your child," she told him derisively, chuckling to herself before realizing Henry wasn't laughing. If anything, her brother looked like a lost little boy again. "Henry…"

"I fear she may be. Sir Thomas was right, that no man at court would dare whilst she had my affections," he replied morosely, gazing off into the distance. "I fear Katherine will not forgive me this. I told her we had never lain together and now proof of this is growing within Anne's belly as we speak."

Mary was silent for a moment as the weight of her brother's words sank in. The Lady Anne, and she hesitated to refer to that woman as a lady, was pregnant with a royal bastard. Katherine had once before dealt with this when Elizabeth Blount had delivered a son, succeeding where Katherine herself had failed so many times before. She'd handled it better than Mary would have, with all the grace and dignity befitting a queen. "Have you told her yet?"

Henry gave a bitter laugh. "How does one tell one's wife that not only did I lie to her but that the woman for whom I nearly set her aside for is with my child?"

Mary didn't know what to say. "You have to tell her, Henry. It will hurt her, yes, but not nearly as much as if she didn't hear it from you. She forgave you for Henry Fitzroy, after all." That was certainly true, although she'd been greatly upset when Henry had invested the young boy with the titles Earl of Nottingham and Duke of Richmond and Somerset. Mary herself hadn't seen the need for it, as he was already the acknowledged son of the king, but knew better than to try and contradict her brother's decision.

"What if I don't want to acknowledge the child? I won't have to say anything in that regard," Henry began but was swiftly cut off when Mary swatted him on the arm.

"Brother, you know not what you speak! Regardless of whether you acknowledge the child, it will get around court and Katherine will always wonder. Would you have her not trust you because of your refusal to say anything?" She demanded, glaring daggers at her brother.

"Alright, alright, I will tell her tonight," he surrendered, not liking the way his sister was looking at him. If she could, Henry was pretty sure she would have throttled him where he stood.

"Good, now that that's settled, shall we continue with our walk? It's a lovely day," Mary questioned, smiling cheekily at him.


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Notes - Gah, I'm really neglecting my other Tudors story but this one is by far more interesting for me to write haha. The results of the poll show most of you want Anne to have a girl, which is what I was leaning towards anyway. Oh and there's a little surprise twist in this chapter. Yes, I'm slightly evil. And yes, this is now my longest story on ! *happy dance*

Warning - brief m/m kiss in this chapter.

Disclaimer – Still don't own, le sigh.

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Mary and Thomas were right, he had to tell her. The question now remained as to how he should break the news that Anne was pregnant with his child. With a heavy heart, he pushed open the door to Katherine's private chapel. His wife was on her knees before the statue of the Blessed Virgin, her soft voice reciting her prayers in a quiet voice. Slowly approaching her, he kneels beside her and begins praying with her, acknowledging her glance and soft smile in his direction. She is the first to finish and rather than rising and sitting on one of the few pews inside, she remains beside him as he finishes his own prayers. "Is there something you wished to tell me, Henry?" She asks calmly, blue eyes watching him. Not judging, not accusing, but just calmly staring at him.

Swallowing hard, he nods briefly. "Yes. The Lady Anne is with child, my child," he whispers, knowing she will hear him in the quiet of the chapel.

"I know," Katherine replies equally soft, her gaze roaming from him to the statue of Mary. The Virgin looks like she always does: her smile soft and gaze comforting, hands upraised in a supplicating gesture. "That's actually whom I was praying for."

Henry gapes at her in utter shock. _She knew?_ "How…?" he chokes out at last, unable to comprehend how she knew before he had dared to even breathe a word of it to her.

"There were rumors going around court," she begins, keeping her voice low in deference to the holy place they are in. "I caught two of my ladies gossiping about it. Apparently, a page overheard Sir Thomas yelling at you about it and it slowly got around. I asked him about it myself, and albeit reluctantly, he confirmed it."

"Katherine," he breathes, feeling tears beginning to prick the back of his eyes. No, he would not break down before her now. "I'm so sorry…"

"I know, Harry. And that is why I was praying. Whatever I may think of the mother, the babe is innocent in all this," she explains while her face remains completely calm. He didn't know what he'd expected, but he hadn't prepared himself for this, this calm acceptance. "You will acknowledge the child?"

It's spoken as a question, but Henry can almost feel the invisible demand behind the words. "Not if you don't wish it," he tells her immediately, trying to salvage this situation.

"You acknowledged Lady Blount's son," she points out, looking at him pointedly. "Why would you not wish to acknowledge this child?"

_That was different, _he tries to say but really, how was it so different? This child of Anne's would be a bastard just as much as Bessie Blount's son is. It was because Henry FitzRoy was a boy, the son he wished he could have with Katherine, the boy that should have been theirs that had been taken from them far too early. "You're right," he finally admits. If this child was a son or a daughter, Katherine would want him to acknowledge the child. Growing up a bastard was difficult enough. At least with the king acknowledging the child, it would have a slight chance of a better life.

"Then you will pray with me, everyday, for the Lady Anne to have a safe birth?" Katherine wants to choke on those words but she can't. Like she'd told Henry, whatever she thought of _that woman_ the child was innocent. There was no reason for Katherine to automatically hate it just because of her feelings towards its mother. She'd wanted to hate Bessie Blount for giving Henry what should have been their son but had been unable to. God had a reason for the things he did, she had to believe that.

"I do not deserve you," Henry's voice is wondering and she breaks out of her brief reverie to see him gazing at her like she is a miracle. "The world does not deserve you."

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George Boleyn hesitated as he turned the letter over, taking note of the royal seal holding it closed. He'd sent the letter informing More of Anne's pregnancy in July and it was now September. What had taken so long? Was this letter to inform him the king would not acknowledge Anne's child and to tell them they were on their own? He certainly hoped not, but was inevitably prepared for the worst. A midwife had been summoned form a village over and paid obscenely well for their silence in this matter, and warned against gossiping over who's child they would deliver. Even now, his sister was in confinement, awaiting the birth of her child. Sinners though they might be, he and Mark met once a day in the chapel to pray for the safe birth and delivery of the child.

He'd fought with her over taking responsibility for the child but had eventually seen sense. He did not have the reputation at court as a lady's man, she'd told him quite bluntly. So how would he explain the sudden appearance of a bastard child? He couldn't help but agree with that statement. He did not have half the reputation men like Charles Brandon or even the king himself had. His father had tried to negotiate a marriage between him and Jane Parker, but Sir Parker had backed out when Jane threatened self-murder if she were to marry him.

"They finally respond?" Mark questioned, draping himself lazily along the back of George's chair. Strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and the breath in his ear caused him to shiver.

"I don't know if I want to open this," he admitted, showing his lover the seal. This letter had to come from the king himself. "What if he refuses to acknowledge the child?"

"Then we will do what we must. We will help the lady to raise the child," the reply came as though this should have been obvious to George from the start. They'd discussed it at length, Mark willing and happy to teach the child music and dance. Anne was well versed in everything needed to be a successful young lady at court, so it was obvious she would teach the child such things if it turned out to be a female child. George could easily teach it how to hunt and other things young men needed to learn.

"Yes, of course," he agreed, relaxing slightly. Grabbing a letter opener, he gently broke the seal and began to unfold it. He read it through twice, the words not registering right away. The king would acknowledge Anne's child? It seemed too good to be true. They hadn't really thought the king would choose to do so, but it seemed they were wrong. The letter told them they were to send a letter the moment the child was born, informing his majesty of the sex and that they were to give the child the name of Fitzroy regardless of whether it turned out to be male or female. After the birth and christening, his majesty would at some point come to Hever to see his child. "He's going to acknowledge the baby!" George exclaimed happily, standing and abruptly dislodging Mark. With a glad cry, he grabbed his lover and laid a kiss on his mouth before running to go inform Anne.

"Anne! You won't believe it!" he cried as he entered his sister's chambers, the midwife looking briefly scandalized that he would dare disturb her confinement. "The king will acknowledge the child!"

Anne's joyous expression turned into one of pain as she cried out, the first pains of labor beginning to strike. The midwife promptly shooed George out, all the while barking at her apprentice to bring clean cloths and hot water. "Everything will be okay, Anne," he told her encouragingly as he was pushed out of the chambers. "Everything will be okay," he repeated to himself, hearing his sister scream from the hallway as he silently began to pray.


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Notes - I didn't mean to make it sound as though Katherine was mellow about Henry having a bastard child with Anne. I meant it in a way that she was more resigned to the fact. There was really nothing she could do about it, so I had her conduct herself with dignity. Throwing a huge fit about it wouldn't have done any good. I've never had a child and have no intentions of having one for at least the next couple of years, thus I'm not putting much detail into the birth. Plus, really, who wants to read that? Eesh. Also, yes, I know, Mark comparing Anne to the Virgin Mary is ironic, since Anne obviously is not a virgin in this story. Keep in mind, he's a romantic soul and he cares about Anne a great deal.

And whoo-hoo! This is now my longest story on !

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The screams coming from Anne's chamber made Mark really appreciate being a male. Childbirth did not sound at all pleasant, sounding more like the young woman inside was being ripped apart at the seams. He and George had taken turns throughout the night standing outside Anne's chambers, awaiting the news of the birth of the babe. There was no need for the both of them to be utterly exhausted, George had reasoned and they began taking turns sleeping for a couple hours while the other stood watch.

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, George yawned as he slowly approached Mark. "Nothing yet?" he questioned wearily, wondering when this would be over.

Before Mark could respond, the screams stopped at last and the sound of a tiny, indignant wail reached the two men standing in the hall.

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"It's a girl!"

The midwife's words nearly caused Anne to begin crying again. A girl! She had sworn to Henry she would give him a son, succeeding where Katherine had failed him but even she'd failed. Her ladies maids helped her from the bed, changing her now sweat-soaked gown and hastily changing the sheets before helping her back to bed.

"Your daughter, madam," the elder woman told her, handing Anne the baby, now swaddled in a thick blanket.

With trembling hands, Anne gently took the baby and settled it into her arms. Murky brown eyes, already beginning to darken stared up at her curiously and Anne suddenly knew what it was like to love unconditionally. It no longer mattered that she'd given the king another daughter, albeit an illegitimate one, this was _her _daughter too. "She's beautiful," she gasped in awe, delicately tracing the tiny features with a finger.

"Aye, she is. A healthy little lass, if a little small," the midwife agreed, smiling happily at the new mother. Job done, she quietly summoned her apprentice and exited into the hall. "The lady has given birth to a baby girl," she told the two gentleman, who immediately broke into silly grins.

"May we see them?" George questioned, peering hesitantly behind the woman into the dim chambers of his sister.

"If the lady is up to it, I see no harm," the woman agreed, stepping aside with a slight curtsy as the two men made their way in.

Anne's hair was loose and flowing about her shoulders and when she glanced up from her baby girl to look at her brother, Mark swore she looked as serene and angelic as the Blessed Virgin must have when the Christ child was born. Creeping closer to the bed to get a look at his niece, George couldn't help but stare at the little girl in his sister's arms. A tiny shock of red hair peeked out from the blankets, marking her as the king's child regardless of his acceptance. "Oh, Anna-Maria, she's absolutely perfect. What will you call her?"

"I hadn't thought of that," Anne replied softly, returning her gaze to her daughter. She'd been so confident she would give the king a son, and had decided on naming him Henry for the king. Now, that was of little help. "I think I shall call her Elizabeth, for our mother and for the king's mother."

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More dreaded opening the letter from the Boleyn's, wondering if once again, the king's mistress was delivered of a boy. Katherine had been upset enough at the news of Anne's pregnancy, and he hated the idea of distressing the great woman further with news that once again Henry's mistress had succeeded where she'd failed. Breaking the seal, he opened the letter and began to read. A girl! He nearly laughed aloud at the absurdity. All this fuss with Henry trying to obtain a divorce in order to have a son and the woman had borne him another girl!

Thomas knew Henry loved his daughter but a king needed an heir, however, which made a son that much more important. Now, he still didn't have a legitimate son and even had he married Lady Anne, he'd have only ended up with another daughter. Shaking his head More couldn't help but laugh softly over how Henry had nearly turned the country on its head to try and marry that woman. He'd thought to get an heir from Anne, who as rumors said, had told him she would give him a son. How wrong she'd been. It was not up to her if she had a male child, but up to God. As he rose from his chair, a thought occurred to him. Who to tell first: Henry or Katherine? They would both find out about this, obviously, as nothing at court was kept secret for long.

Loyalty to the queen finally sent him heading towards the queen's chambers. One of her ladies let him in, announcing his presence with a curtsy. Approaching where Katherine sat regally, he bowed over her outstretched hand. "Your Majesty," he greeted politely, returning her smile.

"Sir Thomas," she replied with a gracious nod. "Please, sit. You have news, I trust?" She questioned as he made himself comfortable in a chair before her.

"I do indeed, Milady. It seems that the Lady Anne is delivered just last week of a girl child," he told her, noticing as she visibly braced herself at the mention of her former rival's name. "The babe is to be christened Elizabeth, for her mother and the king's."

Henry had nearly cast her and Mary to the side, only to be gifted with another girl. Mentally chastising herself for her uncharitable thoughts towards Anne, she nodded solemnly. "They are both well?"

"From what her brother wrote to me, yes. It would seem that both mother and child are well. The babe was reportedly a little small but healthy," he replied uneasily. How could this great woman calmly accept the news that she'd nearly been stripped of her title as queen and her daughter branded a bastard? Anne Boleyn would never have made it as queen, he decided. She was too prone to throwing fits when she didn't get what she wanted or something angered her. Katherine remained calm, full of grace and dignity, even going so far as to pray for the safe birth of Henry's bastard child.

"His Majesty is to be congratulated," she replied at last, coming out of a brief reverie. "Have you told him yet?"

"No, your Majesty, I have not," Thomas told her, still in awe over how well she seemed to be taking care of this. On the other hand, she'd taken the birth of Bessie Blount's bastard remarkably well too, until Henry had heaped titles on the young boy. Then she'd been furious, knowing that Henry was somehow trying to put his bastard ahead of her daughter. "If your Majesty will excuse me, I will seek the king out immediately."

"Of course, Sir Thomas," she agreed readily, smiling once again as he rose to leave. With another bow over her hand, he hastily left in search of the king.

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Luck was with him, as Henry was not entirely too difficult to find. The Duke and Duchess of Suffolk had brought their eldest son, named for the king, with them when Brandon's wife returned to court. Now, Henry was acting like a child again, happily playing with his daughter and nephew. "Your Majesties," he greeted, bowing when Henry acknowledged his presence. Mary smiled up at him as she curtsied and even the young little boy looked at him curiously.

"Ah, if it isn't Sir Thomas! How fare you this fine day?" Henry questioned after telling the children to play on without him. Noting the letter in his hand, the king gestured to it. "You bring news, I take it?"

"Yes, Majesty," he agreed, wondering briefly how to best break the news. Henry had sworn to acknowledge the child, regardless of its sex but now Thomas wasn't so sure. He'd been jubilant when Lady Blount gave birth to a healthy son, but that had been a boy. How would he take it to find out Anne had given him another girl?

"Well, what is it? Has the Lady Anne been delivered?" The king questioned, his voice low but impatient. He hadn't told Mary that she was going to be a sister, not knowing how to break it to his daughter that he'd once again betrayed her mother with Anne.

"Yes, Henry. The Lady Anne has been safely delivered of a healthy girl, who is to be christened Elizabeth for your mother and hers," Thomas finally told him, bracing himself for the king's reaction.

"A girl," he repeated, staring at Thomas in disbelief. "I nearly destroyed my kingdom for her only to have another girl?" Before his Lord Chancellor could say anything, Henry laughed heartily. "Can you imagine what would have happened had I married her?"


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Notes - Alright, so you know what? I've decided against trying to form any kind of timeline for this story. I know I said that this story probably takes place in 1533, but I'm not holding to that per se. I want to give Henry and Katherine a child, most likely a son finally, in this story but even lowering their age difference wasn't much help. Histoically, Katherine had six pregnancies altogether, the last of which tragically was a very weak daughter in Nov of 1518. By 1525, she was no longer able to bear children. Well, to heck with that! This is fiction and more importantly, my story, which means I can do what I please and to hell with history!

Also, I know I often depict Katherine at prayer. She was a very devout woman. You must remember that she was the daughter of two Catholic monarchs, so likely had it pounded into her head from the time she was a small child. She was even nominated as a Defender of the Faith, much like Henry was for denying Martin Luther's arguements. So, yeah, she'll likely be praying quite often throughout the course of this story.

Also, I'd like to send a big hug to all my reviewers, new and old alike. You guys rock! And thank you to everyone who has read this story, even if you don't leave a review. I know there has to be plenty of you, because this story has over 5k in page views.

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As was her usual routine Katherine awoke, let her ladies help her dress and went to her private chapel alongside her rooms. Twining her rosary through her fingers, she knelt before the Virgin and began to pray. No more than a few moments into her prayers, a sudden wave of nausea hit her from nowhere. What was the matter with her? She wondered, fighting it down with no small amount of difficultly before finishing her prayers somewhat hastier than was her usual wont. Making the sign of the cross, she murmured a blessing before heading back to her rooms to break her fast. At the sight of the small feast laid on the table, she couldn't fight off the nausea fast enough. Covering her mouth with a hand, she was quickly handed a chamber pot.

"Are you well, Majesty?" one of her ladies questioned hesitantly, gently wiping her face with a damn cloth before handing her a glass of watered wine. "Shall I send for Dr. Linacre?"

"No, thank you, Mistress Seymour but that won't be necessary," Katherine replied after a few moments, gently sipping at the wine in order to remove the taste of bile from her mouth. Could she be...? Privately, she had her doubts on whether she would ever bear another child. She'd been pregnant six times, with her daughter Mary being her only child to survive. When Henry had stopped visiting her bed, she'd despaired of ever even having the chance to try to bear him a prince. Now that his obsession with that Boleyn girl was over, he'd been visiting almost like clockwork. She hardly dared to even hope but it would be the only thing that could possibly explain what was going on with her. Here lately, she'd been growing fatigued, with occasional bouts of nausea. Nothing to worry about, she figured, thinking maybe it was just the stress of the past months catching up to her. She'd prayed for so long that she would be able to bear a son to be the living image of his father that it was hard to believe she may very well be carrying one even now.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Majesty?" Jane questioned hesitantly, her eyes gazing at her lady worriedly. She hadn't been in Queen Katherine's service very long, but already had learned the queen's routine. Usually, Katherine would pray for several hours, leaving her ladies to their sewing for the poor. To see her rush out of the chapel and promptly get sick had the young woman worried. Privately, she hoped that the queen was with child and would bear a son, forcing the king's attention back to his wife for good. The ladies had all been ashamed to say that Anne Boleyn had once been among their number and sought to put bring the queen down. They were not here to catch the king's eye, but to serve their queen and hopefully make a good match at court. "Should I send for his majesty?"

After a moment's hesitation, Katherine nodded. "Yes," she said slowly, her hand moving involuntarily towards her still-flat stomach. As the young lady curtsied and scurried off to find the king, all Katherine could think was, _Please, God, let this not be a dream. Let me give Henry a living son._

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"Lady Jane Seymour, your Majesty."

"Mistress Seymour," Henry greeted cordially, acknowledging her curtsey with a nod. The young woman had only come into Katherine's service recently, but he'd made it a point to know the names of the ladies that served his wife. "You bring a message from your mistress?"

"Yes, Majesty," Jane replied, keeping her eyes cast downward. "Her Majesty requests to see you, at your earliest convenience."

That was unusual. Katherine hardly ever requested to see him, usually seeking him out herself when she wanted to spend time with him. "Is Her Majesty well?" He finally ventured, his curiosity stoked. He'd been in a foul mood earlier, a letter from the Boleyn's having arrived and questioning when he might come see his daughter. He'd raged about their impertinence to Suffolk, wondering aloud who they thought they were to practically demand he come see his bastard child. Just because he'd chosen to acknowledge the child did not mean he wanted to see her or her mother. His sister had looked like she wanted to smack him again, and even Brandon had looked at him askance. He'd left their presence in a rage, and was now finally calming down. Begrudgingly, he admitted to himself that he would at least like to look upon his new child but he would do it on his terms.

"Her Majesty simply requested for your presence, Sire. She seemed well, however," Jane finally settled on replying, knowing how badly the king feared sickness. You did not have to be at court long to know how badly the king dreaded any kind of illness.

Henry scrutinized the young lady before him, sensing there was more to the story than she was letting on. _Ah, well_, he mused to himself. _I will simply ask Katherine when I see her. _Aloud, all he said was, "Very well, Mistress Seymour. You may tell her Majesty I will be there shortly."

He watched as she curtsied, with a murmured, "Your Majesty," as she took her leave. What on earth was going on with Katherine? He wondered to himself, frowning slightly in thought as he gazed down at the parchment that would state he officially recognized his bastard daughter as his offspring. Maybe he should see her first, before putting his name and seal to the parchment? There had been rumors of course, of her behavior with and towards various gentlemen but at the time, he'd disregarded them. Anne had sworn they weren't true, that the people who spoke these rumors were simply trying to poison him against her. In the end, it hadn't been the rumors that poisoned him against her, but rather her temper. The way she flew into an almost incoherent rage when she'd discovered Katherine was still making his shirts had been the final straw in a way.

He'd cared about Anne but it paled in comparison to the way he truly felt about Katherine. He hadn't realized just how much he still cared for his wife until that night. She'd graciously held herself above it all, never once losing her temper the way Anne so often did time and again. She'd even accepted the fact that he'd sired a bastard with Anne, calmly telling him to at least acknowledge the child as he'd done with his son, little Henry Fitzroy. With a sigh, he threw down his quill. This could wait until after he'd seen the girl Anne had bore. For now, he had to see his wife.

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"His Majesty, the King!"

Her ladies in waiting all rose and curtsied as Henry strode into the queen's chambers. "Sweetheart," he greeted warmly, eyes alighting on Katherine who rose with a smile. "You wished to see me, darling?"

"Yes," she replied, grasping his hands in hers with a gentle squeeze. "You may leave us," she directed at her ladies, who curtsied again and took their leave.

"Is everything alright? Mistress Seymour seemed worried when she came to me with your request," he told her as he led her to the chair she'd been occupying as he'd walked in. Making sure she was comfortable, he brought another chair closer and sat in it himself.

"I'm fine, Henry," she agreed, the smile never leaving her face. "In fact, I believe I have some most welcome news."

"Oh? What is it, sweetheart?" he questioned, sitting forward. His gaze fell to her hand which had once again made its way to her stomach. She'd done the same thing numerous times when she was… "You're with child?" he questioned slowly, looking up to meet her eyes.

"I think so," she told him, her smile growing at the obvious love evident in his eyes. "I had begun to believe it was simply the stress of these last few months, but now I'm almost certain."

Falling from the chair to his knees, Henry laid his head in her lap. "We must have you examined by Dr. Linacre. Has the child quickened?"

"No, not yet," she told him, one hand gently combing through his hair. "God willing, I hope this will be our son."

_Our son, _Henry thought, raising a hand to cover hers on her stomach. _Please, God, give us a son. Give me a second chance._


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Notes - NaNoWriMo is coming up, and I'm actually going to attempt it this year. My newest story, For the Love of the King, will be my NaNo project this year. As always, thank you for all your lovely reviews! You all rock! Yes, Henry is still a tool as always.

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The second Hever Castle had been spotted, Henry felt like turning right back around and heading back to Whitehall. Katherine had been persistent in telling him to go, insisting she was fine. Their child had finally quickened much to their mutual delight. This surely had to be a sign from God, Henry had told her excitedly as he felt the child move beneath his hand. He'd done the right thing, discarding Anne and returning to his lawful wife and was now being rewarded for it. Now if only he didn't have to see his bastard daughter, things would have been perfect.

Then, Katherine had reminded him of his promise to acknowledge the child. He'd hemmed and hawed and tried to come up with a convincing argument as to why he shouldn't see the girl but in the end, his wife proved to be the victor in this match. So now, accompanied by Charles, they made their way to Kent to see the girl. "I will want to leave right after we've seen the child," he instructed Brandon who looked back at him with curious eyes.

"You won't want to spend more than a few seconds with the girl?" the duke questioned cautiously. Mary had pleaded with him to make Henry see sense. If he was to acknowledge the child as his, surely he should do more than just lay eyes on her the once and then never see the girl again. The scowl that crossed Henry's face told Charles all he needed to know.

"The child's mother obviously bewitched me. Why else would I have nearly turned my kingdom upside down in order to marry her, only to end up with another useless girl?" With that, Henry set spurs to his horse and rode ahead, eager to get this over with.

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"Maybe we should have one of the maids present the child to him," George suggested, glancing towards the nursery where Anne was busy making little Elizabeth presentable. When the child had been born, he'd offered to hire a wet nurse. Anne had looked at him in horror, pointedly demanding that she be the one to nurse her own child. When he had tried to point out that she wouldn't have been allowed to nurse the child if she'd become queen, his sister had promptly threw a book at his head. Elizabeth was her daughter, she'd screamed at him, and by God, she would nurse from Anne's breast and no others.

"You think that she'd let that happen?" Mark questioned, following his lover's gaze. No matter what the people of England thought about Anne, there was no doubt she was a devoted mother. The child wasn't even toddling yet, but the young woman made sure everything was perfect for the little girl. "After the way she reacted to your suggestion about a wet nurse, I don't think she'll take too kindly to that suggestion."

"Touché," George agreed, grimacing slightly at the memory. He'd never seen Anne so furious, not even when Mary had run off and married without the family's knowledge. "You think the king will want to see Anne, though?"

Mark thought for a moment and then shook his head. "Doubtful. He clearly did not wish to see her when she was with child. Now that she's given birth, I don't see why that would change anything."

"Alright, we're ready," Anne's voice broke both their thoughts and almost as one, both men turned to face her. With Elizabeth in her arms, she stood before them nervously. Henry had not once made any desire to see her, but that did not matter. What mattered was that he was coming to see their Elizabeth. Fussing with the cap on her daughter's head, she turned her gaze to George. "How do we look?"

"Beautiful, as always, sister," George told her warmly, bending to kiss first his niece and then his sister on the cheek. Little Elizabeth gurgled at him, waving chubby arms at her uncle. "Do you want to have a maid present our little Elizabeth?"

Anne let out a slight sigh before shaking her head. "No, George. I will bring her before the king myself. If he can't bear to see me, then he won't see Elizabeth." She'd briefly pondered asking one of their maids to pose as her daughter's nursery maid but in the end had decided against it. What would be the point? Most of the women in their service would likely be too nervous before the king and may well let it slip that they were not the child's maid. Better that she face the king herself, than taking the cowardly route and having a maid do it for her.

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Henry stared at one of the many tapestries lining the walls in the room which he'd been shown into. Completely lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice when the door to the room opened. The sound of a throat clearing jarred him back to reality. Whirling around, he stopped short when he saw who Brandon escorted into the room. Anne had not changed at all, he noted with something akin to wonder. The raven hair was pulled back into a modest snood, the French hood resting atop her head like a tiara. Her dark gaze met his for a brief second before they dropped in respect. "Your Majesty, Lady Anne Boleyn," Charles intoned with a bow, before stepping aside.

"Your Majesty," Anne greeted, dipping a small curtsy as best as she could with Elizabeth in her arms. "May I present to you your daughter, Elizabeth?"

With an impatient gesture, he motioned for Anne to hand him the child. With obvious reluctance, she did so, stepping back a few inches. Red curls had escaped the child's cap, marking her Henry's child like nothing else could. She had most of her mother's features, he noted as both father and daughter observed each other for the first time. The hair and eyes were definitely his, he mused as he gently brushed a curl of hair under her linen cap. "You've done well, Lady. She is a fine child," he finally told Anne as he handed the child back.

"I thank you, Majesty," she agreed, inwardly seething at how he seemed so ready to leave. She loved her daughter dearly, but couldn't help but wonder how this meeting would have turned out had she had a boy. Taking her daughter, she smiled at how Elizabeth watched the king curiously even as she returned to her mother's arms.

"I expect letters on her health and progress from now on," Henry instructed coolly, avoiding looking directly at Anne. She had bewitched him once with her charms, but she wouldn't get the chance to do so again. "Good day to you both." With that, he motioned to Brandon to follow as he stalked from the room, clearly ready to leave now that his duty was done. With a sympathetic look back at Anne, the Duke followed his king, leaving mother and daughter standing alone in the room. When the door shut behind them, Elizabeth began to cry. With a choked sob of her own, Anne cuddled her little girl close.


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Notes - Apologies for the delay! I went on vacation and then we had a new person start at work so I couldn't use the computer to write. I can't believe that this story is closing in on the 100 review mark! When I first started this, I never imagined it would be so popular! Thanks as always to my reviewers, you guys are the reason I keep writing. Also, to those of you wondering, yes I do have plans to pair Charles and Anne later on in the story. As always, read, review and enjoy! Princess Mary will find out with everyone else at court in the next chapter that Katherine is pregnant. I know y'all are probably dying to see her reaction!

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"My brother is an idiot."

Katherine looked up from her needlework as her sister-in-law was shown into her sitting room. With a motion, she dismissed her ladies as Mary took a seat before her, looking irritated. "You shouldn't talk like that, Mary," she chided, "Your brother he may be but he is also your king."

"Oh, I know," Mary agreed with a sigh. "I just can't believe him sometimes."

"What happened?" Katherine questioned as she unpicked a line of stitches that had somehow ended up crooked. That was what she got for trying to do needlework while pregnant, she supposed. The child within her womb was becoming more active as the months progressed, which seemed to be a good sign.

"Well, as you already know, he and Charles went to see that Boleyn woman and her child," Mary began, waiting until Katherine nodded before continuing, "Charles told me earlier that they were there for all of five minutes before Henry demanded they leave."

Aghast, Katherine looked up, her needlework forgotten. "Henry did not even see the child?" she questioned, her ire rising. Henry had sworn to her he would see and acknowledge the child, and so help her if he hadn't done that simple task…

"Oh, he did. Charles said that Henry was a complete and utter arse to the poor woman and her child. Henry told her that he expected progress reports on the child before they left. He had plans to make, he told Charles on the way back, after all there had to be the formal announcement for the coming child and celebrations to be planned for the birth of his prince," Mary explained, catching her annoyed tone at the end of her speech. "Which, we are all praying for, of course."

"As are we all," Katherine told her, resting a hand on her rounding stomach which was met with a strong kick, "As are we all."

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"May I speak with you, Henry?"

Katherine's soft words caused him to whirl around, smiling as his eyes lit on her. Being with child certainly agreed with her, it always had. "Of course, sweetheart," he agreed enthusiastically, taking her arm in his and leading her away from the commotion in the great hall. They were to have a magnificent banquet to announce the pending birth of a prince and he didn't want her to get over-excited by all the people bustling about. "How are the two of you doing today, darling?"

"The babe and I are well," she replied with a smile. "How did your visit go?"

Damn. He'd privately hoped she'd forgotten about it or would fail to ask. This was Katherine he was talking about, he reminded himself ruefully. There was no way she would forget about that. "Well," he finally settled on replying, "the girl is healthy and definitely a Tudor rose if there ever was one."

"Hmmm," she hummed as he led her out into one of the gardens surrounding Whitehall. Servants curtsied and bowed even as they moved out of the royal couple's way. "Your sister and I had a talk earlier," she informed him after a few moments of easy silence.

Inwardly, Henry winced at those words. Of course Charles would probably have told Mary all about the fiasco that was his visit to the Boleyn estates. Mary, in turn, likely would have gone to Katherine and repeating her husband's retelling of their visit. "I can explain," he finally told her only to be cut off.

"You promised me that you would acknowledge the child. You have," she agreed before he could point out that he had, indeed, kept that promise, "But to hear of the way you treated your daughter, Henry. You may dislike Lady Anne, and I cannot fault you for that. If we have a son, would you have that son treat his child, legitimate or not, the way you treated her child? Or for that matter, would you have treated Mary the same way, had she been illegitimate?"

"Why, of course not," Henry began but trailed off. Would he really want his son to act like he had towards his former mistress and tiny daughter? "You're right," he admitted with a sigh and a shake of his head. "Of course you're right. I just…"

Blue eyes stared at him calmly, and Henry felt himself cracking under the pressure. "You just what, Henry?" she asked after a moment, seeing that he wasn't going to continue without prompting.

"I did not want to leave you in your current state, for even a moment," the words rushed out before he could stop them. It was true; he had not wanted to leave her side. Too many times he had left, be it to go to war or to cavort with his mistresses, only to be given the distressing news that once again Katherine had suffered a miscarriage. Then, of course, there was the memory of his mother. Elizabeth of York had tried desperately to give him another brother after Arthur had died, only to end up giving birth to a girl who'd only lived a few moments before both had succumbed to death.

Cupping his cheek in her hand, Katherine gently forced him to meet her gaze. "Harry," she began gently," You cannot let your fear for our child to rule you. The babe is strong, and continues to grow as such. Nothing is going to happen to us."

Leaning into the caress, Henry closed his eyes as her always soothing tone washed over him. It was silly to be so scared, but part of him couldn't help it. He hadn't always been the best husband to her, he recognized that now. God seemed willing to grant him this second chance but at what price? Masses would soon be said daily though out the country for the queen to safely deliver a prince. Would they help, or would God once again show his disfavor for Henry and fail to give him a son, or worse, take Katherine away from him? "I don't know what I would do without you," he whispered, the truth of those words hitting him like a lance to the gut.

"And I, you," she agreed, "I pray neither of us will ever find out. Will you see little Elizabeth again? And actually be the father she needs, for me?"

Swallowing hard against the sudden lump that had formed in his throat, he nodded. "Yes," he agreed, unable to hold back the single tear that traced down his cheek.


	15. Chapter 15

Author's Notes - 25 more til I break 100 reviews! I love you all, I really do. Your comments have seriously inspired me as a writer again. So a few notes on this story...

Yes, Anne and Charles will become a couple. Likely within the next three chapters, I plan on moving that forward.

This chapter takes place around Christmas time. I figured what better way to announce the birth of a future prince than on such a momentous holiday? Yes, we will finally see Anne and Princess Mary's reactions to , part of Mary's anyway... the first half of the next chapter will deal with her.

Next chapter will focus on the birth and the celebrations surrounding it, including a little surprise for Elizabeth. No, I'm not telling, so don't ask.

After the prince is born, I'm gonna skip ahead a year, so as to bring Anne and Charles together.

Also, I can't seem to find a definitive answer as to how long a woman's confinement is, so I'm not gonna go into detail about that. Be boring anyway. And I love how Microsoft word tries to correct already perfect grammar...

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George eyeballed the letter baring the royal seal like it was a snake ready to strike him at any given moment. After he'd come to see Elizabeth, for all of five minutes, they had neither seen nor heard from the king. Until now, that is. The message had been delivered by a rider wearing the royal coat of arms and the young man was still waiting in the outer chambers for his reply. What on earth could the king be sending a message to them about? They'd done exactly as he'd demanded by sending him monthly reports on Elizabeth's health and development, so what could warrant this?

Reaching out a slightly shaking hand, he gently broke the wax seal. Unfolding the letter, his eyes scanned once, then twice over the letter. The king was inviting them back to court? George sat there blinking dumbfounded at the invitation. In spirit of the holiday season, it said, his royal highness was requesting their presence at court. Elizabeth was of course welcome to come as well, if they so pleased, it went on to say. More vague pleasantries were sprinkled throughout, before being signed HR. Henry Rex, Henry the King. "He's inviting you and Anne back to court?" Mark's voice seemed to come out of nowhere, making George almost jump out of his chair.

"Sweet Mary, mother of God, don't do that!" George gasped as he clutched at his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat beneath the fine fabric of his tunic.

Mark fought against looking amused, but knew he was failing miserably at it by the glare being directed at him. "My apologies," he told him, unable to keep the sound of laughter from his voice.

Taking a few calming breaths, George turned to face him, leaning against his desk for support. "Yes, I'm sure," he muttered, knowing full and well Mark wasn't the least bit apologetic. "But yes, it seems that Anne and I are indeed invited to come to court for Christmas. I wonder why though?" he added thoughtfully, staring down at the now rumpled letter in his hand. "Why, when he was the one who banished us in the first place?"

"Maybe he's just in the Christmas spirit?" Mark suggested with a tiny shrug. Who was he, a mere commoner, to question the whims of the king?

"Hmmm," George replied indifferently, before sighing. "I suppose it cannot hurt to go, at least to see what he wants us there for. Who knows? Maybe he's finally forgiven father for his transgressions and wishes to make it up to Anne and I?"

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Meanwhile, at Ludlow Castle in Wales, Princess Mary was excitedly helping her ladies pick out her finest dresses. Mama and Papa had finally sent her an invitation back to court, to celebrate Christmas with them! A new dress, just for the occasion, had been ordered and made ready for her to wear to the banquet, but who knew how long she'd be there? She'd only been there for a couple months before being sent back to Wales, so maybe they'd let her stay longer this time. How she longed to see her beloved Mama and Papa again!

She'd gone with her governess to pick out presents for her parents: a silver and topaz pomander for her mother, as well as a rosary made from mother-of-pearl and a new tunic for her father, as well as a jewel encrusted dagger that she knew instinctively he'd love. Making sure her treasures were packed carefully, ready to go to their new owners, she quickly finished her packing. The journey would take several days, but that didn't matter to her. She was going to see her parents, and nothing was more important than that.

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Clothed in a fine crimson gown trimmed with ermine, Katherine looked as regal as ever to everyone but herself. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she tried her best to conceal her growing stomach but to no avail. Mentally reprimanding herself for her vanity, she shook her head. Today was the day they would announce to the court and country that she was with child. Six times, they'd done this. Five times she'd experienced the loss no mother should ever have to bear and the one time she'd succeeded, it had been for naught. Her daughter was infinitely precious to her, no doubt, but it had been pounded into her head that it was her duty to give her husband a son. A boy to be the living image of his father and she'd failed him. _Not this time, _she prayed. _Dear God, do not let me fail in this._ The child in her womb had to be a son, or else Henry might try to set her aside again to try with another woman.

Maybe it was the knowledge that the Boleyn's were coming back to court that had her mind in such a state of turmoil. Her former lady-in-waiting and rival would be amongst the crowd when she and Henry made the announcement of the pending birth of a future royal child. She knew it would grate on the younger woman like nothing else, seeing the woman she had sought to displace on the verge of forever winning Henry back. If only she could be certain the child she carried was a son, it would make her triumph that much more. Shaking her head to rid herself of these thoughts, she promised herself an extra hour of prayer for her uncharitable thoughts towards Anne.

It was over, and she was the victor this time. Henry was hers once again and God willing, if she bore a healthy, living son, he would remain hers. Smoothing her skirts, more out of habit than necessity, she motioned to her ladies to fall in line behind her. Satisfied, she led the way out of her chambers and down to the main hall.

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Anne disliked being back at court immensely. The stares, the whispers, they all conspired to grate on her nerves. _Let them stare_, she thought defiantly as she and George moved through the crowd. She may be the one everyone was gossiping about now, but that didn't matter anymore. Her thoughts remained on Elizabeth, who they'd opted to leave behind at Hever. Court was no place for an infant, even one with a royal father. As they took their seats at the table, she nearly got right back up and walked away. The Duke and Duchess of Suffolk sat opposite of them, though neither seemed to notice the Boleyn siblings right away. "Your Graces," she heard George greet them, and she reluctantly followed his greeting with her own.

Charles looked around at the greeting and nearly swallowed his tongue. What in God's name had Henry been thinking, seating them across from the Boleyn's? A sharp pinch to his thigh nearly made him wince before he finally spoke. "Lord Rochford, Lady Anne," he greeted, trying his best not to glare at his wife who seemed to be able to hold herself above it all. Damn if he likely wouldn't have a bruise from where she'd pinched him!

"Any idea what's so important that the whole of court is here?" George questioned, curiosity getting the better of him. If anyone would know, he reasoned to himself, it would be the Duke or his wife. As it was, he could see the twinkle of knowledge in the Duchess' eye, but she very calmly remained quiet.

"No idea," Brandon replied carefully. Of course he knew, but there was no way he was going to let the cat of the bag before Henry could. The sudden burst of trumpets made the din die down as the heralds announced the arrival of the King and Queen.

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Henry slowly led Katherine to her seat, helping her into the chair with a bow and a gentle kiss to her hand. A loving smile was his prize and he felt his heart squeeze with joy. _My boy,_ he thought fondly, gaze momentarily going to her stomach before he rose up and turned to face the crowd. "My Lords, My Ladies," he greeted, grasping a goblet from the table set before him and lifting it into the air, "today, we not only celebrate the birth of Christ, but another miracle as well."

Within the crowd, Princess Mary looked up at her father with a frown. What was he talking about? Everyone knew Christmas was about celebrating the birth of baby Jesus, so what other miracle could he be talking about?

_No, _Anne thought wildly, staring up at the raised dais where the king and queen were. Here, Henry paused and looked back at his wife, the look of adoration on his face making Anne reminiscent of the way he used to look at her. _It can't be!_

"God willing, in the New Year, England will at last have its prince!"

The joyful shouts of the crowd nearly drowned Henry out, various toasts to the king and queen being shouted throughout the great hall. Mary felt the blood drain from her face as her father's words sank in. If her mama bore a healthy, living prince, then where did that leave her? No longer would she be the Princess of Wales, the title Prince of Wales going automatically to her baby brother. She would no longer be the heiress presumptive to the throne. As the people around her began to celebrate the long awaited news, silent tears began making their way down her face. _That's it, _she thought morosely, _they are going to replace me with a son._


	16. Chapter 16

Author's Notes - A nice, long chapter to make up for the incredible dely. I apologize for making you all wait. In the past month, I've moved and have had little to no access to a computer or internet. Hopefully this makes up for it. Also, little Elizabeth will be in the next chapter and then it'll jump forward to bring Anne and Charles together. Any suggestions on the name for the prince? I don't want to do Henry, as in rl they had bad luck with naming their princes Henry and I don't think they'd name another boy Henry if the others all died.

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On their way back to the small house Henry had allowed them to use whilst at court, Anne had been completely silent. Her normally expressive eyes stared blankly out the carriage window while George tried in vain to think of something to rouse his sister from her present state. The announcement of the Queen's pregnancy had stunned them both, but it was clearly affecting Anne more-so than ever. _Thank God father is not alive to see this, _George thought half-hysterically. Thomas Boleyn would no doubt have thrown a fit the likes of which had never been seen, knowing that the queen had not only succeeding in keeping their family from the throne but also that she was likely to give the king a living, legitimate heir. No sooner had the carriage stopped, than Anne was out in a flash. Ignoring the startled groom, she jumped down and with a look of fierce determination, almost sprinted inside.

George gaped after her, startled, before he too jumped down and rushed after her. The instant he was inside, maids were rushing to and fro in a frantic attempt to pack. _Why are they_ p_acking? _He thought blankly, even as he made his way to where he could hear his sister ordering her ladies about. "Anna-Maria, what on earth-," he began, stepping into the open door of his sister's chambers only to duck when a vase was thrown at his head.

"I will not stay here another moment!" Her eyes were wild and her hair, so neatly done before hand was now in a wild tangle about her face. "You will not make me! God himself will not make me!"

Several of the ladies gasped in shock, one nearly dropping her burden as they all stopped and stared at the siblings. Feeling eyes upon her, Anne whirled around at once. "What are you staring at?" she demanded, her fury rising. Almost as one, the ladies all averted their eyes with mumbled apologies and went back to their frenzied packing.

"But the king-, "George squeaked, only to blanch as his sister turned on him once more.

"To hell with the king," she hissed between clenched teeth, advancing on him like a hungry wolf. He backed up until his back hit the wall, even as she got closer. "We are going back to Hever and if I have my way, I will _never _come back here."

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Mary had been unusually quiet since the commencement of the banquet, going about her nightly routine almost as if in a trance. The whole castle was abuzz with the news of the impending birth of a prince but she was oblivious to it all. For years, she had been the heiress presumptive to the throne, being the only living child of her parent's marriage. Even when Bessie Blount gave birth to Henry Fitzroy, everyone still assumed she would one day become queen. The thought of a bastard becoming king over a legitimate heir was ludicrous. Her father could ennoble the young boy all he wanted, making him the Duke of Somerset and Richmond, but that did not change the fact that the child was first and foremost nothing more than a royal bastard.

Part of her wanted to scream and cry that it wasn't fair. Why should an infant, even a boy infant, be put ahead of her in the line of succession? She was the granddaughter of Isabella of Castile, who'd been a queen in her own right. Her mama had told her so and thus neither of them saw any reason why she could not eventually be queen. In the back of her mind, she'd always known if a son was born to her parents that he would become king before she would even be considered to be queen. Just like if she had a brother, who in turn had a son, that boy would become king and so on and so on. It just wasn't fair! All these years, being called the Princess of Wales and treated as heiress presumptive, were slowly coming to an end. Soon, the little prince growing in her mother's stomach would be the Prince of Wales and heir presumptive, leaving her as plain Princess Mary.

"Her Majesty, the Queen!"

Spinning around at the announcement, she instantly dropped into a curtsy as her mother swept into her chambers. The ladies who attended the princess did the same, all of them muttering greetings and keeping their eyes carefully averted. "Leave us," Katherine commanded, making her way to a chair and settling herself in it comfortably as the women curtsied and made their way out. "Come here, Mary," she said softly, motioning for her daughter.

The dam holding back her emotions broke and with a sob, Mary launched herself at her mother, falling to her knees before her and burying her face into her mother's swollen stomach. Tears flowed freely as her thin frame was racked with the force of her crying. Gentle hands petting her hair made her cry even harder. Would her mother love her infant son more than Mary? The thought ran wildly through her head and she hadn't even realized she spoke it aloud until the other woman spoke.

"Calm yourself, Mary, it's alright," Katherine told her soothingly, stroking her daughter's hair. Tears soaked through her outer robe, but she hardly noticed it. The thought of Mary believing that a prince would replace the love she held for her daughter nearly broke her heart. "No, Mary, no child. I could never love one of my children more than the other. Even if I bear a son, nothing could ever take away my love for you."

"You promise?" Mary knew she sounded like a child again, but couldn't bring herself to care. The thought of losing the love of her parent's was gut-wrenching. "What about papa?"

"I promise, mi pequena nina," Katherine assured her, gently lifting her daughter's head to meet her gaze. "You will always be your father's pearl, Mary. His love for you will never go away, just like mine."

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Impatient and a little worried, Henry paced the length of his wife's presence chamber. The last few weeks he'd scandalized many of her ladies by visiting her whilst in confinement, sitting with her for a few hours each day as they both waited for the birth of their son. _Please, God, give us this blessing, _he prayed silently as he turned on his heel and made his way back across the room. _Please, give us a son._

Her birth pains had started early this morning and he'd given orders to be roused the moment it happened. Now, once again, he was waiting. _Always waiting_, he mused, a rueful smile appearing and just as quickly disappearing. He'd gotten so tired of waiting that he'd nearly lost Katherine and for what? Another girl! He loved Mary, he did, but he saw it as his duty to not let the Tudor line end. For all of Anne's talk about being the one to give him a son, it had been all for nothing. He'd almost broke with the church, declared his Mary a bastard and lost Katherine whom he'd loved since he was a boy only to end up with another girl.

More had pointed out in his own way that maybe God gave them this chance to show he forgave Henry for his mistakes with Anne and approved of him going back to Katherine. The whole of England had celebrated when it became known that its king and queen had reconciled, so maybe God was at last favoring him? He certainly hoped that was true, praying that the final sign was the birth of a healthy prince.

How much longer was this going to take? He wondered, glancing at the door to where his wife had spent the last few weeks of her pregnancy. Dr. Linacre didn't seem worried and he hadn't been called in for assistance so he guessed everything was going smoothly. Had it taken this long when she gave birth to Mary? He wondered, cursing himself for not being there when she was born. Maybe if he had, he'd have a better idea of just how long this was supposed to take. The door opened and Henry stopped mid-pace to look over eagerly. One of the maids beckoned the doctor inside, carefully closing the door behind them.

Was everything alright? Was it Katherine? What about the baby? The sudden urge to bite his nails caused him to cross his arms. He was the king, damn it, not some commoner. Minutes passed and he fought the urge to fidget impatiently. Would they ever come out? After what seemed a small eternity, Dr. Linacre emerged and began approaching. "What is it? Is Katherine alright? What about the child?" He asked the questions in a rapid fire manner, worry for both mother and child gnawing at his gut.

"Peace, your Majesty," the older man replied, making a calming gesture with his hands. "Your Majesty is to be congratulated, as the queen has given birth to a healthy prince. Her majesty seems to be doing well."

At last, a prince. A prince! Henry stared at the man in complete shock before he felt his knees go weak. Lowering himself to the floor, he began to chuckle lightly at first then a full-out belly laugh. "Praise be to God," he whispered, clasping his hands and bowing his head.


	17. Chapter 17

Author's Notes - I still haven't decided on the name of the prince, but he's not in this chapter anyway so it doesn't really matter. My best friend loaned me her netbook so updates should come pretty quickly from now on. This story is almost over, I figure I've got another five or six chapters to go before wrapping it up. I still have to get Anne and Charles together, as well as find a match for Princess Mary.

"Elizabeth must come to court."

George knows Anne must hear him, but she doesn't so much as turn to look at him or even acknowledge that he's spoken to her. It had been several years since they'd last been to court, but the news of the birth of a prince had reached them almost as quickly as it had happened. The whole of England would be celebrating today, this the young prince's birthday. The boy was only a year younger than Elizabeth, but it was obvious to all who beheld him that he was healthy and thriving. "Did you hear me, Anne?"

"I won't allow it," she replies simply, not turning from her position at the window. From her vantage point, she was able to carefully observe her daughter and their niece playing under the watchful supervision of their sister, Mary. The other Boleyn girl had returned to Hever upon the death of her husband and seemed to be enjoying the quiet solitude that their childhood home now offered them.

"The king will not take no for an answer, Anne. She is his daughter, you know," he pointed out, barely managing not to cringe at the dark look Anne finally turns on him.

"Of course I know she is his daughter. I was there for her conception, did you forget? Anyone who looks upon her can clearly see she is his daughter," she states coldly, arms crossing defensively over her chest. "Unless I go with her, I will not allow her to go to court."

'Your Majesty is looking well," Charles commented as he and Henry strolled leisurely through the snow covered grounds. "How is the queen, and of course, the young prince and princess?"

"Thank you, Charles. The queen sends her condolences, as does the princess, on the loss of my sister and your wife," Henry replied, the joyful light in his eyes dimming slightly. Mary's loss had hit him quite hard, and he'd locked himself away for several days in his grief. Without her, Charles and a few others, he wouldn't have his boy and he certainly would not have Katherine.

"Your Majesties are most kind. Her loss is a great one and I fear there will never be another woman quite like her," the duke replied softly, the ache in his chest from losing his wife still fresh. Their little son, Henry, had cried for days, completely inconsolable no matter what he or his nurse did for him.

"No, that is for certain. Mary was a force of nature in her own right," Henry agreed, before shaking his head. "Bah, enough of this depressing talk! Today is a day for celebration after all. Mary herself would agree; I'm almost sure of it."

"I'm sure," Charles agreed, privately wondering if Mary would, indeed, agree. Knowing far better than to speak his thoughts aloud, he wisely changed the subject. "Word has it that you've invited the Lady Elizabeth to court."

"Indeed, I have. I vowed to Katherine I would be a father to the girl, and I fear I have neglected that duty. No matter, I will begin to make up for it quite soon," he mused, bringing a hand up to scratch at the beard he'd begun to grow. "Now if I only I could avoid seeing the child's damnable mother..."

"You think Lady Anne will allow her to come to court without her?" Charles questioned, raising an eyebrow. Anne's protectiveness towards her daughter was well known at court, the gossip mill churning out constant questions as to the reason behind her overly protective nature. Some speculated that the reason for it stemmed from the fact that Elizabeth was not Henry's but her own brother's child! He'd laughed aloud the first time he'd heard this, remarking to Anthony that clearly people saw what they wanted to see. That girl was Henry's, through and through, of that Charles had absolutely no doubt.

"Unfortunately, no, I don't see it happening. As long as she doesn't make a nuisance of herself, the least I can do is tolerate her, I suppose," Henry sighed, putting his hands behind his back as they continued their walk. "Charles...oh never mind, the idea is utterly ridiculous after all..."

Warily, Charles eyed his oldest friend. The old goat was up to something, he was sure of it. "What is it, Henry?"

"What would you say if, after your mourning period, I suggested that perhaps you marry the Lady Anne?" Henry asked casually, almost as if he were asking Charles's opinion on the weather.

Surely, Henry had to be jesting. Everyone at court and quite a few others he was sure knew that he couldn't stand the woman. It had been bad enough when Henry was infatuated with the chit, and he'd hated having to bow down to her as though she were already queen and not simply the king's mistress. But no, Henry looked utterly serious and was impatiently waiting on an answer. "Majesty, I...," he began, unsure of how to continue without upsetting the king.

"Well, after young Elizabeth arrives at court, you will find out, won't you? Now, come, Charles, I'm starting to feel chilled," Henry decreed, turning and making his way towards the castle.

"Mama, look over there, mama! There's the castle!" Elizabeth's high pitched squeal of excitement jerked Anne out of her thoughts. The little girl was pointing eagerly out the window, where Greenwich palace seemed to grow larger and larger the closer they got to it. "Are we to see papa today?"

"I don't know, Elizabeth, maybe. Your papa is the king, and very busy, so we might not see him today," she replied distantly, still entangled in her thoughts of the past. How different things would have been, should have been, could have been. How different things would be, she wondered, idly listening and responding half-heartedly to her daughter's incessant chatter. Katherine's son should have been hers, her son with Henry and she should have been queen. Elizabeth should have been a princess, not a royal bastard. There's no use living in the past, she mentally chided herself. If it was meant to be it would have happened.

The carriage at last came to a stop. There were some voices outside and then the door was opened. Elizabeth was helped out first, her nurse following at Anne's insistence. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself before allowing the footman to help her out of the carriage. "Lady Anne, Lady Elizabeth," a voice greeted them. Automatically, she dropped into a curtsy, Elizabeth following her example by rote. When she rose, her gaze lifted and met the dark brown eyes of the Duke of Suffolk.

"Your Grace," she greeted, and idly wondered when she'd stopped hating the man. He'd been one of her biggest rivals when she'd been trying to get Henry to leave Katherine for her. He'd always made it quite plain the disdain he felt for her and her family, even though it had been his agreement with Thomas Boleyn that had brought him back to court after he married the king's sister without Henry's knowledge or approval.

"His Majesty the king bids you both welcome," he began and she let his voice wash over her as he led them inside. _Please, God, just let me get through this_, she prayed silently, grasping Elizabeth's hand tightly within her own. The sound of the heavy doors swinging shut thudded in her ears, sounding not unlike those of a prison cell to her mind.

"Their majesties, the king and queen," The herald cried, as both Henry and Katherine were shown into the large audience chamber. Henry graciously saw Katherine to her seat, placing a kiss upon his wife's hand as she seated herself. The crowd murmured slightly, still unused to seeing the royal couple so happy.

"My lords, my ladies," Henry greeted, turning to face the crowd with a smile. "I'm honored to have your presence today as we celebrate this, the day England got her Prince of Wales. In celebration of this joyous event, many of you were brought here today for various reasons…" His speech went on and on, but Anne had long tuned him out. Why was it necessary for her Elizabeth to be here? She wondered, watching as various men received knighthood or titles. So lost in her thoughts, she hadn't realized that he'd called for Elizabeth until the little girl tugged impatiently on her hand.

Hundreds of pairs of eyes stared at mother and daughter as Anne escorted her little girl forward. Several times she heard a few people muttering disparaging remarks, but she managed to keep her composure. They would not get to her, she vowed silently as they neared the king and queen. "Lady Anne," Katherine said simply, acknowledging her curtsy with a nod. "Lady Elizabeth."

"Hullo Papa King. Hullo Majesty," Elizabeth greeted, smiling brilliantly up at her papa, who smiled back down at her.

"Hello Elizabeth. Anne," Henry greeted, rising and kneeling before his youngest daughter. "Do you have a hug for your papa?"

Nodding enthusiastically, she tugged her hand from Anne's grip and ran forward into his waiting arms. "Why are we here, papa?" she questioned innocently, gazing big blue eyes up at him.

"Well, it just so happens that I have something for you," he told her, chucking her gently under the chin. "With your mama's permission, that is, of course."

"You don't need her permission, you're the king," Elizabeth pointed out wisely, to the general amusement of the court. Anne herself smiled slightly, though it almost looked like a grimace of pain.

"That is true, I am the king," Henry agreed with a nod. "But seeing as it's about you, don't you think we should ask your mama?"

"Alright," Elizabeth replied after a moment, looking up at Anne from her position in Henry's arms. "Is it alright if papa gives me a present?"

"Of course, Elizabeth," Anne replied, swallowing hard against the lump forming in her throat. If it was up to her, she'd snatch the girl and run back to Hever, never looking back. Was he plotting to take her daughter away? She wondered, even as he let her go and rose to his feet once more.

A servant dressed in fine livery stepped forward, a cloak trimmed with ermine in his hands as another proceeded to unroll a scroll. "His Majesty wishes to confer unto Elizabeth Fitzroy the title of Duchess of Pembroke…" the man continued but Anne felt almost faint. He was making Elizabeth a duchess? He wasn't taking her away? The ceremony was over fairly quickly, with Henry pressing a kiss to Elizabeth's cheek, before motioning the two away. Anne dropped into a curtsy by reflex, taking hold of her daughter's hand once more. They were safe, she breathed to herself. Everyone could say what they wanted but they were safe and that was all that mattered.


	18. Chapter 18

Author's Notes - Still no name for the prince, but again, not really important since he's not in this chapter again. Sorry! Maybe next chapter. Anyways, this is really just a transition chapter, not much happens here. I've got a princess to be courted and a wedding to write, so I'm guessing that there's only going to be maybe 3 chapters left, plus an epiloge if i decide to write one. If you've enjoyed this story, you might like my newest work, True Love. In it, Henry gets amnesia after falling at the joust and believes that he is 18 again and newly married to Katherine. Check it out, I think you'll like it. Thanks go out to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and followed this story. You all rock and I want to give you all big hugs! Without all of you, this story would likely have just fallen to the wayside and never been picked back up.

**EDIT - **Special thanks to **PhenioxGypsy **for correcting my spainish in Chapter 16! Goes to show you can't always trust google!

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Her ladies were whispering amongst themselves and giggling like a gaggle of geese. Mary, in the midst of her prayers, let out a frustrated sigh and finally turned to glare at them. Almost as one, they all dropped their eyes, murmuring their apologies and lapsing into silence. With an imperious nod, she promptly turned around and finished her prayers. Making the sign of the cross, she rose up and moved to her seat in the tiny audience chamber outside her rooms. "Now," she began, settling herself and looking around at her ladies. "What has you all so excited this morning?"

They began giggling again, before being once again glared into submission. "There is news that a Duke has recently arrived just this evening from Bavaria," one finally piped up, after they'd finally managed to control themselves.

"Dukes and Ambassadors arrive all the time," she replied dismissively, waving the thought away as she reached for her sewing.

"Rumor has it he has come to ask for you hand, my lady," the same girl told her with a mischevious grin.

Nothing could have prepared her for ithat/i particular tidbit. Embroidery forgotten, she stared at them in shock. "What?" She asked stupidly, fighting the urge to gape like a landed fish. While she was no longer offically the Princess of Wales, she was still a princess of England and would not allow herself to do so. Her father was considering a match for her finally? She'd almost given up on the thought of ever getting married, especially during that horrid time when he was trying to set aside her mother and brand her a bastard so he could marry that woman. Now that her baby brother was thriving, it seemed that her father finally remembered he had a daughter that was of well of age to marry.

"He's quite handsome," another lady injected, raising her eyebrows in an almost suggestive manner. "I saw him when he arrived. Your father even greeted him personally."

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"Mother, is it true?"

Katherine looked up from her sewing as Mary swiftly entered her chambers. Her daughter was positively vibrating, though whether from excitement, fear or a combination of both, she could not tell. "Is what true, Mary?" She asked kindly, motioning for her daughter to sit beside her even as she moved to set aside the shirt she'd been sewing for Henry.  
"My ladies told me just this morning that a Duke arrived from Bavaria," Mary began, taking a breath to try and soothe her rattled nerves. "Apparently, there is a rumor around court that he is here to seek my hand."

Well, news certainly traveled fast, Katherine thought idly. "Would that be such a bad thing?" She questioned, looking at her grown daughter. God, when had she grown up? Mary was now in her twenties and looked remarkably like she had at that age.

"I... I suppose not," Mary replied, twisting her hands nervously in the skirt of her fine velvet dress. Noting her mother's frown, she hastily unbunched the material and smoothed it out. "But... why didn't you or father say anything?"

"I was going to, but your father recieved a letter from the duke, stating that he wished to come here to court you himself," Katherine replied with an easy shrug, recieving a startled look in return. "Your father was more than willing to negotiate a marriage contract on your behalf but the duke was quite persistant."

He'd come specifically to court her himself? A small part of her swooned at the romanticism of it, despite her best effort to quash that. "When will I get to meet him?" She finally asked, then gasped at her own boldness.

Her mother just laughed softly, reaching out to pat her on the hand. "I'm sure you will meet him soon enough," she told her.

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"His Grace, the Duke of Suffolk!"

George looked up in alarm, as Charles Brandon was shown into what he still thought of as his father's audience chamber. "Your Grace," he greeted warily, bowing slightly to the other man.

"Lord Rochford," Charles replied, inclining his head in repsonse to the bow and greeting.

"To what do I owe this visit?" George asked, trying his best to remain casual. Why was he here? He thought frantically, trying and failing to think of any reason why Suffolk would be here.

Suffolk sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face. "This is going to sound completely unbelieveable," he replied, eyeing Boleyn cautiously. "However, as to why I'm here... I've come to ask for your sister's hand."

"I... I'm sorry, what was that?" George asked, shaking his head briefly and staring at Suffolk in utter shock. Brandon wanted to marry Anne? Had the world gone utterly mad without his knowledge?

"I told you it was going to sound unbelievable," the other man muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and looking completly uncomfortable.

"You... you're serious?" He yelped, jaw dropping open in surprise. "But... but... the two of you... hate each other," George finally sputtered when Suffolk nodded.

"I don't hate her," Charles replied, staring out the window and into the distance. "Not anymore, at least. It wasn't nessecarily her I hated anyway."

Grudgingly, George nodded at that. It was no great surprise that nearly every person at court disliked their father, regardless of the facade they showed to the world. "You... really want to marry her, though?"

"She would be a duchess, and Elizabeth would be well taken care of," Charles pointed out, evading the question with ease. Did he want to do this? Not really, but the way he saw it, what choice did he have? If he didn't do this on his own, then Henry would either force him into it or find someone else to marry her off to. As much as he had disliked the woman when she'd been at court and with Henry, he was tired to hating her. Frankly, he was just tired at this point. Mary's death had hit him hard and for several months he'd withdrawn from everyone and everything as he'd mourned her. His young sons needed a mother, though, and while there wasn't much he could say about Anne that was particularly nice, he had to admit she was a good mother.

The thought of calling Suffolk out on his deliberate evasion was a tempting one but George manfully resisted. "If that is what Anne wants, you have my blessing," he finally answered with a shrug. He couldn't deny that Suffolk was certainly a good match, better than anything she could hope for otherwise, but he knew better than to try and speak for her himself. True, he was the head of the family now and could marry either of his sister's to whomever he wished but he couldn't do that to them.

"I'd like to speak with her, then," Charles replied, not turning away from where he remained staring out the window.

"I'll send for her," George agreed, bowing slightly as he backed out of the room.

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"Your Grace," Anne's voice broke Charles out of his thoughts, and he finally turned from the window to look at her. The years and motherhood obviously agreed with her, he noted casually as he studied her. Her dark hair and eyes were the same he remembered, and she simply stood there, back straight as she waited for him to speak.

"Lady Anne," he greeted cordially, sketching a short, formal bow which was greeted by the slightest bend of her knee.

"I was told you wished to speak with me," she finally spoke after a few moments of silence.

"Yes. Did your brother tell you why I'm here?" Charles replied, the awkwardness of the situation apparent to both of them. They'd been rivals once, and now, here he was about to ask her to marry him. Surely somewhere, God was laughing at him.

"He did," Anne agreed, clasping her hands together behind her back. She hadn't believed George for a minute when he'd informed her Suffolk was here to ask her to marry him, but now as she stood before the Duke, she could believe it. Brandon was clearly uncomfortable and she could admit part of her took great pleasure in that fact.

"What say you, Lady? You would be a duchess and of course, Elizabeth would be more than welcome in our household. I would treat her as my own, and with all the respect she deserves as a peer and as the recognized daughter of the king," Charles told her, thinking that the best way to get through this was to focus on Elizabeth's welfare.

Damn him, he knew that she was more concerned about her child than herself. George had been correct when he'd pointed out that she couldn't do much better than Suffolk, even if they'd disliked each other in the past. She would be the second highest woman in the kingdom, behind only the queen herself. With a sigh, she nodded slowly. "Yes, Charles Brandon, I will marry you."


End file.
